#or just the kitchen in general - hopefully he likes cold food

[enhaheeseung]

BREAK UP - L HEESEUNG

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader

Warnings: crying, angst heartbreak, depression?

Word count: 1,065k

Note: final part to this short series working on the last part of at your service so stay tuned 🫡

Tag @loumin908

Part 1 Part 2

-

Heeseung had stopped counting how many days it had been since you left. There was no need to; he couldn't keep track anyway because every day without you felt like a month, and that's being generous.

The days seemed to drag on forever, with absolutely nothing for him to do besides watch TV or work, and as one could imagine, that got boring fast.

He knew it was dumb, but he even tried having conversations with himself to help his boredom. But the sound of his voice echoing off the walls was a reminder that you also took the paintings that were once there, canceling the noise when you left.

Needless to say, those one-sided conversations quickly came to an end.

Things just weren't the same without you. The bed he'd rest on was far too big. He only ever took up half, and obviously, you would be on the other side, but not anymore.

Another item on his list of things that were too big was the bedroom, the kitchen, and the living room. The whole house was too big now that he had no one to share it with.

And besides, he didn't use anything other than the microwave, and the bed, and rarely the shower.

He lies in bed his whole day off, staring up at the ceiling with his hands clasped over his stomach, his index finger touching the back of his hand as he contemplates where to go from here.

Clearly, you weren't going to reach out to him. His calls went on deaf ears, which was a dead giveaway that you were done with him.

He just needed to get it through his head that you were gone for good.

Cause apparently, the cold bed, the silent home, and the tasteless heat up dinners weren't enough for him to realize that you were actually gone for real and that you were never coming back or taking him back.

He looked to the side, his white sheets crinkling with movement as he peered over at the clock, which read 3:04 p.m.

Right now, you'd both probably be getting ready to go out for lunch or ice cream to the park or maybe even the beach, given the weather.

But instead, he's glued miserably to his bed.

And you?

He doesn't know.

Cause you wouldn't answer him.

Maybe you're off having a family trip.

Maybe you're at home feeling just like him, but that's wishful thinking that you'd even miss him right now after what he's done to you.

Maybe you're doing better than he is. Hopefully, you're doing better because he never liked it when you were sad.

He dryly chuckles to himself he was the one that made you sad in the first place.

Maybe you're working now.

Maybe you didn't even live with your parents and moved out since he's last seen you.

Maybe you're far away in another country.

And maybe in that other country, you've found someone new, a man that treats you better than he did, a man that replaced his spot in your heart, a man that you lov-

At the thought, he quickly turned on his stomach, burying his face in his pillows to drown out the sounds of his sobs.

He hated the sound. It's the only thing he's been hearing for the past months, and he was tired of it.

He was tired of going to bed cold and lonely, tired of waking up to an empty bed, tired of hearing the constant ringing through the home because of how quiet it was, tired of not being able to taste your food, tired of not being able to hold you, and tired of not being able to love you the way you deserved.

And now he was tired of being tired.

Even his body felt tired. He had zero motivation to do anything. It's a wonder he kept his job, but he supposed it was because he had to find a way to sustain life without you somehow.

But it didn't feel like sustaining. It felt draining, depressing, exhausting, and every word in the dictionary was negative.

Nothing in his life was positive.

And as he wept and clutched onto the softness of his pillow countless times, he finally came to the realization that this was it. There was nothing left of him nor this box he used to call his home.

He weakly sat up, wiping the tears away from his face to no avail because they just kept falling.

As you always do.

Instead of continuing to lose himself in this space, he decided he had to get out. There were too many memories of you and him here, and if he stayed, there was no way he'd even be able to get over you.

Not to say leaving would make him get over you, but at least it would be new scenery, new scenery with new floors you've never walked on, things you'd never used or seen, a bed small enough for just him so when he'd pat around for you it'd be nothing but thin air and not the fabric that tricked his mind into thinking he'd touch you if he patted long enough.

Just a fresh start where maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be reminded of you everywhere he looked.

Since you left, there was nothing here for him, so he left, too.

He packed up his things tearfully, yet another painful reminder of the night you left. However, he shook the thought off, trying his best not to think about the separation anymore.

He packed his clothes and toiletries, and that's it. The bed could stay, and the furniture could stay. It'd be far too sad for him to bring the wooden chair that you always used to sit in with him.

Once his few items were neatly tucked away in a suitcase, he plopped down on the bed, hugging your pillow once last time, almost as if to say a final goodbye.

The plan wasn't to fall asleep, but he underestimated all the stress and anxiety he'd been under the past few weeks, and within a few minutes, he was fast asleep, holding onto the last little piece he had of you.

In the morning, he'd find someplace to go anywhere but here.

There was no reason to stay, not after the break up.

-

Thanks for reading likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated sorry for any typos or errors I hope you all have a good day/night 🤍

[fuji-sen]

the 'evil imposter' just wants to be a baker!

Prologue: The Foodie turned Imposter?!

Part 8: Buttery Mamon

[ part 7 ] || [ masterlist ] || [ part 9 ]

I keep forgetting to add trigger warnings uhhh: one scene has you panicing and nearly falling into an anxious mess, ptsd of course and the general sagau obsession with the creator.

divider is made by @/saradika-graphics

While Kaeya was finishing the last of the skewers you were busy near the stove, using the stocked ingredients in the panty when Kaeya reassured you it was fine, that he'd handle it and just hoped you'd make it worth his while.

Rolling your eyes at his teasing, you knew he meant it when he said that he'll take the brunt if Adelinde or Diluc came to scold them or rather her, for using the ingredients in the kitchen.

A simple snack was what you preferred, something light that would contrast to the meaty skewers that Kaeya had provided for the both of you. You were craving something sweet and soft, so you decided on a pastry. Though you initially thought of something cold, like ice cream or sorbet or maybe pudding, you don't think they have any ice here unless you wished to go to Mondstadt, Kaeya had a cryo vision but it would be rude to ask him to make you some ice during your first meeting.

So some fluffy mamoms would have to do, and you could probably top it with some cheese or a bit more powdered sugar. And he could share it with the other workers as a light treat.

Kaeya watched as you quickly gathered the ingredients, and skillfully start. It was apparent that you were very experienced in cooking from the way you easily cracked the eggs without worry, and how you beat them with a whisk.

To think that you were the supposed imposter, instead of brewing chaos or using the fact that you look like the creator to your advantage, you were here, hiding your identity, talking about food with him.

It wasn't hard to notice, despite you well crafted lie of a background, he could see through it. He noticed the bandages on one of your arm, and peeking out of it was something purple, no doubt Scars from Lisa's electro fueled attacks. Then there was your mask, though you didn't take it off while you ate, you didn't noticed how the mask would flap around due to the wind, luckily letting him take a glimpse of your face.

It was uncanny how you mirrored the old statues of their Divine Creator. Had he been obsessed with pleasing the great God like Jean and Lisa were, he'd have easily killed you on the spot, labelling you as an imposter. But he wasn't like them. Although he respected the Great Creator, the origin of all, he wasn't blinded by such faith.

Perhaps there was a chance you were just a regular person caught up in a bad time in the wrong place.

Because as rarely as it happens, it does happen.

Hopefully he could convince the others about that, maybe with the Travelers help.

"How long will that take?" he asked as you popped whatever you were making in the oven. "Usually half an our, but since I'm using a less advanced oven I'm not sure. I'll have to watch it so it doesn't burn." You explained, wiping your hands with a rag.

He nodded in understanding, the smell of eggs and something buttery was filing the room, no doubt it was appetizing and enticing when even Adelinde curiously checked in on them.

"Oh Master Kaeya, you're still here. I would have thought you'd have scurry off somewhere like usual." She said with a smile, Adelinde was always smiling though, huh?"

"Ah I just had to stay for [Name]'s dish, what was it again?"

You shrugged, "It's simply some mamon, it's like a chiffon cake. And there should be enough for everybody." You added, facing Adelinde who chuckled, embarrassed of having been caught eying the baking pastry.

"That is very sweet of you, Thank you [name]." The blonde haired maid said and turned to Kaeya once again. The duo left the kitchen, holding a conversation that was no doubt confidential that someone like her, an outsider, shouldn't hear.

The smile on your face slowly disappeared, replaced with a calculating frown. "Kaeya probably knows I'm the person the other knights are looking for." You said to yourself, eyes casting down towards the mamon which were slowly rising up.

"I don't think he'll attack me unless I give him a reason." you interacting with him was like a gamble, you were easing your way in, waiting for a chance to ask, what did he think about this great creator?

There was a part of you expecting him to give a passive response or an answer that danced around your question. Because you knew of his lineage, you wondered how do the people of khaenri'ah view the creator, for they are the nation without a God.

Of course just when you were about to ask him the question you had carefully thought about, he was whisked away by Adelinde. Perhaps it was a sign for her to leave, that she shouldn't ask less she gave herself away.

You were preparing the glaze for the mamon, which was simply melted butter as well as the jar of honey and powdered sugar in case they wanted to top the chiffon bread with something a bit more sweeter.

Suddenly the door had burst open as Kaeya quickly grabbed her shoulders, the charismatic mask he had worn had slipped off for a moment, now replaced with something urgent. Your eyes widened in fear, as you felt your hands shake, was he going to kill you?

"You need to be extra careful, not only are the knights looking for you but the fatui delegates are as well." He told you which shocked you, was the reach of this so called great creator truly so magnificent to even make its way to Shezhnaya, a region you thought who was only devoted to the Tsaritsa?

He knew as well, Kaeya knew who you were- you pushed him away, backing until you hit the counter. "Don't" you practically pleaded "Don't hurt me!"

"I won't" he said, "I'm sorry I suddenly grabbed you" he quickly added realizing his mistake "but you need to listen to me. Jean wants you dead, as well as Amber, and Lisa and the other knights. They are convinced you are the imposter. And Jean is desperate enough to accept the Fatui's help."

"You understand what that means right?"

It just got more difficult, you felt yourself fall to the floor, your chest felt painfully suffocating. He cursed under his breath, mentally berating himself for losing his tact, his cool level-headedness as he crouched down.

"[Name]" he called out softly, stretching out his hand "I need you to calm down okay? can you do that? You need to breathe."

His voice fell on deaf ears, you covered your face with your hands, murmuring pleads of mercy, even if the pain was gone, even if the samachurl helped heal you, you still felt it, that electrocuting pain that traveled your body, it made you freeze, and cry, feeling so helpless as instead of being in the kitchen, it felt like you were in Jean's office.

The cold metal that touched your neck,

their uncaring eyes, and deaf ears that turned away from your cries and fears. .

the electro, the lightning that-

"You know, how about when all of this is just over, I treat you to some food."

". . . . ."

Your mutterings had stopped, as you tried so hard, straining your ears to just focus on Kaeya's voice. Ignoring Jean's and Lisa's who spat such poisonous words at you.

"Have you tried the moon pies here?" he asked, noticing your attention was slowly coming back as you broke free from the cage that was that night. Your small voice could be heard "I. . I don't really like meat pies."

Kaeya fought a grin "and here I thought you were a foodie." You pouted, rubbing your face, "meat pies are weird for me, I like apple pies more." you commented with a deep breath, your heart was still racing, and despite not being able to truly break away from that night, Kaeya's eye that stared into your soul told you that you'd be just fine.

"It'll be okay." he said quietly.

"Hopefully." you pitifully said and he corrected you,

"Definitely."

You and Kaeya heard the door open and close, and a rush of footsteps followed by Adelinde's loud greeting. "Master Diluc, you're home early!"

"Shit." Was the only thing you and Kaeya said, staring at the door and then at each other. You would be screwed if Diluc of all people had found you after all!

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

Diluc raised a brow at Adelinde, she was usually on the less. . vocal side in her greetings. From the way she fidget and avoided making eye contact it meant that the maid was hiding something from him, which wasn't out of common.

Usually Adelinde, bless her heart, tried to help fix the relationship between him and Kaeya. Often that meant orchestrating surprises or uncanny coincidences where in the two would bump into each other and have to deal with something suspiciously or well, clearly crafted by the maid.

The red headed male sighed "Where's Kaeya?"

Adelinde sweated profusely, perhaps it was better to hide from Diluc to and claim later that she had been busy, curse her for being a bad liar. Usually she was better than this but because of the current situation, there was a whole lot of pressure.

"He-"

"Diluc!" Kaeya had strolled out of the kitchens, wine glass in hand as he nodded at Adelinde who sighed in relief. Perhaps by now the look-alike was gone, 'poor girl, to think she's being hunted down by her face' she couldn't help but sigh at the situation, eying the two brothers. They didn't usually agree with each other, but maybe, maybe they'll agree on this.

"Kaeya, what are you doing here? as far as I know Jean had ordered all Knights to focus on the search for the Imposter." Diluc crossed his arms, giving the other male a look. "Oh please Diluc, do you really support their decision about this whole. ." he trailed off, acting as if he was trying to find the right words "witch hunt?"

The red hair was silent at his question, and Kaeya couldn't help but let a grin fall on his mouth, of course Diluc would object to this. He was just as righteous at their dad. . no Mr. Crepus was. "Does it matter? as much as a witch hunt is. . overkill. I understand Jean's sentiments that an imposter running around in Monstadt is a grave sign."

"Are you willing to risk the chance of harming or even killing an innocent person, or worse, the real creator then?" Kaeya asked, swirling the contents of his wine glass, watching the blood colored liquid to move like a whirlpool. Silence was the only answer he got.

"Why are you vouching for this imposter?" Diluc asked, eyes narrowing "Have you met them?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not."

Knowing he wouldn't get a clear answer from him, not with his skill of dancing around with his words and controlling his body languages, Diluc resorted to turning to Adelinde who flinched.

"Adelinde."

"Yes, Master Diluc?"

Adelinde tried her best to smile at Diluc as if she was unaware of what he was talking about. If the situation wasn't dire, Kaeya would have laughed at her failed attempt to appear innocent.

"Did the imposter came here?"

"My Master Diluc, I don't know about any Imposter." She said. Diluc sighed, and decided to investigate, he headed straight towards the kitchen, the same place Kaeya had left in a hurry. From his peripheral Vision he could see the cavalry captain hold the wine glass tighter.

He swung the door open, ignoring Adelinde's calls. The kitchen door and window was left open, it was warm inside, suggesting the oven had been used. The smell of butter filled his nose and he turned his gaze to the table finding something akin to small cakes shaped like tarts.

Hurried footsteps followed after, a sigh of relief left Kaeya's mouth. "What did you do?" Diluc immediately responded with frustration, turning to the cryo wielder with a heated gaze, hand gripping Kaeya's shirt.

"I merely let an innocent victim go. Don't you know the saying? innocent until proven guilty." Kaeya easily responded turning to Adelinde who clearly looked worried that the two might fight. "Adelinde, thank your for your assistance, I'm sorry you had to lie. Why don't you leave me and Diluc to talk things out."

"but. ."

"Please Adelinde." Diluc added, despite his frustrations, his face softened as he turned to the maid who nodded, lips trembling due to the conflicting emotions.

". . ."

"If you wish to risk your life for someone, then so be it." Diluc sighed letting go of his collar. A hand combing through his flaming red locks. "So what have you gathered about this person?"

"They're certainly have the face of the creator, that I will confess however" Kaeya approached the table, setting down the wine glass as his eyes glanced at the chiffon cake, "mamon" her voice lingered in his mind. "she's no imposter, she didn't intentionally deceive anyone. Besides, is it a person's fault for the face they are born with?"

"That would be like blaming a person for the crimes of their parents. . or blaming a person for their heritage. ."

". . ."

Diluc looked tired, his usual mask of indifference had disappeared as he took a seat. "I take it the meeting with Jean was. . less than favorable?"

"I suppose that would be the correct word to describe it." he admitted, Jean had been acting weird, it wasn't just her. Lisa, the usual lazy or too relaxed librarian was rather energetic in her plans to find, catch and kill the imposter. Amber as well was leading the knights to searching the region. "I think she's trying to compensate for not being favored by the Creator." Kaeya offhandedly mentioned, quickly raising his hands however at his brother's penetrative glare.

Kaeya gulped but continued on, "Listen, there's no use letting our personal relationships cloud our judgement. You know how Jean has been when the creator has manifested in her but never truly favored her."

It was hard to deduce when it started, their memories had begun to feel clouded, controlled, and rewritten. Numerous vision users in Mondstadt had felt an awaken, briefly being covered with a golden light, their bodies controlled by someone powerful, a being they would come to realized as the Divine Creator who had awoken from their long slumber, ready to guide the people.

Their favor came in many forms, often or really, it was only the vision holders did the Creator cast their gaze on. The first to be awakened was Amber, followed by Lisa and Kaeya and from then it branched on from Bennett, to Noelle, to Razor and more. Diluc himself had been one of the few to not experience this awakening, but he wasn't bothered by it or at least if he was, he was good at hiding it to the point that Kaeya wasn't entirely sure of how he felt with not being experiencing the Creator's control.

Jean had also been awakened, however unlike the others who felt the Creator's favor and guidance in forms of weapons and artifacts, she didn't experience or receive anything. It was like the Creator casted her gaze on the acting grandmaster only for a moment, and decided that she was not worth any effort.

Nobody outright commented on it, the civilians of course were not aware. The only reason why Diluc knew despite not being in the knights of Favonius was because the blonde haired knight drunkenly confessed her feelings of doubts. Seemed that the pressure of being the acting grand master, the Stormterror problem and the neglect from the Divine Creator had made the woman he once respected spiral down in a pit of self-destruction.

"Here, have some." Noticing how sad or at least worried Diluc was becoming, Kaeya took one of the mamoms and force-fed Diluc. "Omph-" The man glared at the cavalry captain who shrugged, slapping his hand away Diluc bit into the chiffon break cake and instantly melted at the buttery goodness.

It was very soft and warm, a hint of sweetness and definitely butter. "This is. . good. Who made this?"

"The so called imposter." To his credit, Diluc didn't spit it out. It was too late anyways. So he begrudgingly continued to eat it, despite assuming there might be something bad in it.

"I hate you."

Kaeya rolled his eyes at his brother's reactions, "Diluc it's not poisoned. I was watching her the entire time she made them!"

I always wondered how Khaenri'ah played with the sagau elements considering they are canonically the nation without a God. So for now, they would no doubt respect the great Creator who is seen as the origin of everything, but since they managed well without a God, perhaps they aren't as obsessed as the other acolytes. That's why its interesting for me to write Kaeya's pov about the creator. But since he grew up with the Ragnvindr, a family who no doubt respected and paid tribute to the Creator, he'd probably have more respect to the Creator than most Khaenri'ans.

Current compiled suggestions to name the pyro slime <3

Fuji_Sen has suggested! Lava Cake or "Java" based on the food / coffee" Fuji_Sen has suggested! Monsieur Creme Brulee or "Creme" based on the food. @Fantasyhopperhea has suggested! Soleil or "Sol" @Cactus4226 has suggested! Ruru (Py-ro, ro -> ru -> ruru) @bunniotomia has suggested! Helios or "Hel" @airyravenmaid has suggested! Cinnamon or "Cinna" @kindofscenic has suggested! Pyrex from the glass or "Pyruru" @shyentsmissingink has suggested! Pyri or "Pyrico"

kinda wished there was more food based names, since of the whole foodie theme, but I kinda think Sol or Hel is cute too and Cinna.

also I have an idea like for a self aware or at least reader insert hsr

taglist:

@fantasyhopperhea @rhoswen-drake @cchiiwinkle @aman3kkun @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @bunniotomia @esthelily

@earth-to-name @fandomfan-102 @kh1ffy @jiyeons-closet @dragontammerz / @mercy-not-merci @aryuunachigiri @randomnatics @alexx197197 @keirennyx @vianitry @game-savvy @laviniadraws

[aliencatwafers]

Oooooooh, this is so cool and rad like WHOA!! Fawful would totally wear this (the V-neck jumpsuit, crown, and starry cape)! Also adore the alliteration “Frosty Fawful!” He better watch out for Bowser’s flame before he melts quicker than a Wendy’s Frosty slapped in the oven. (Of course, ice powers are more durable than that). Love the design and pretty colors (and the expressions - Fawful would totally do that).

Love this!!

Brought back a concept I drew once! This is the Blizzard Midbus counterpart, presenting: Frosty Fawful!

💙He got cool ice powers yayyyy! 🧡

I couldn’t decide between the blue and the orange glasses so I gave him both!

[ohdeerfully]

Hello

I live

Well, barely

OMG ISTG I JUST REREAD LIKE ALL OF YOUR FICS I'M GOING SGSJDGDJHFJDY

Your writing. I swear. It's so good. Like when I read any other alastor x reader fic I have this nasty voice in the back of my head going 'He wouldn't do this'. THAT DOESN'T HAPPEN HERE

You are a genius. (Thabk you for speepy Alastor coming from an insomniac is good praise, no?)

My personal favourites are

a. Either of the sleepy Alastoe fics (obviously)

b. Dry bed. Istg the writing in that.. Augh

Could you do a part two to Dry bed? Maybe they just wake up (Together!!!) and awkwardly get their way down to breakfast. Then they simply avoid each other all day, not talking, but still stealing glances at each other when the other isn't looking. Then reader finds Alastor chilling on the hotel roof the following night and they TALK about it. And figure things out.

Omg thabk you for listening to my rant I hope you are doing well byeeee

~❤✨

P. S. You and your fics are my new hyperfixation

hello!!!!! in general sorry yall for my absence, finals are literally next week so it Will happen again

im so glad u like my depiction of alastor hes literally so annoying to write... a dry bed is honestly probably one of if not THE fave fic ive written (though might be a tie with mourning dove) so i hope part ii does it a bit of justice (,: i kind of deviated from ur request at the beginning (they dont wake up together >_<) but otherwise i hope u enjoy! hopefully its not too obvious i kind of rushed it

mwah! <3

A Warm Bed

(sequel to A Dry Bed)

Alastor x Reader (hurt/comfort, fluff) TW: none really, alastor is probs ooc but who cares

join my discord!

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It felt a little bit too cold when you woke up, but you couldn’t immediately find a reason why. Your eyes squinted open, facing the curtains that were drawn just enough to where a peek of the morning light rudely shone against your face. You turned over with a dissatisfied groan.

Peering at the empty bed beside you, you stared blankly as wheels began to turn in your mind. It only took a few seconds to remember the previous night, and your face quickly warned as you hissed in a breath through clenched teeth, wrists coming up and rubbing your eyes with a sense of dismay.

Man, what were you thinking. You felt a strong mixture of regret and embarrassment but also… you felt lonely. The strong, strange affection from Alastor the previous night directly compared to him disappearing and leaving you alone in the morning made you feel all the more cold. The room also had an uncomfortable silence to it, but at the same time too loud with the hum of your ceiling fan.

Whatever, you feigned indifference to yourself and lifted yourself from your mattress, legs dangling over the side of your bed for a few moments, allowing yourself to get a quick stretch in before sliding on some comfortable slippers while you went to your restroom, protecting your feet against the cold tile.

You quickly freshened up, pulling on some comfortable loungewear before leaving your hotel room and walking down the long corridor that led to the steps. Maybe it was just your current mood, but the ambience was too quiet and uncomfortable.

Your spirits slowly lifted as you made your way down the steps, and you could hear the faint clashing of kitchen tools being dropped and thrown, alongside unintelligible and arguing voices, one doubtlessly being Vaggie trying to tame—or, no, threaten—the chaos.

The air, at the very least, smelled good despite the racquet. Though you were in Hell, the food was still appetizing—even if you weren’t exactly sure what it was half the time.

You must’ve made it just in time, as right when you turned the corner you nearly hit your head against Charlie’s shoulder as she rounded the same corner. You tripped over each other for a moment before she ultimately steadied you with a hand and a breezy laugh.

"Good morning! I was just about to tell everyone breakfast was ready…” You smiled at her gesture. Every morning she tried to host some sort of typical continental style breakfast that was standard for most hotels—that is if Niffty’s behavior permitted a successful morning—and the quality was usually higher than what you remembered in your time alive. Of course, you were dealing with the Princess of Hell, who obviously wouldn’t want anything mediocre for her treasured guests.

“Thank you,” was all you could offer in return before she passed you, doubtlessly to gently announce the food to the other guests. There had been an increase in residents lately, so you weren’t shocked at the piles of delicious looking food that met your eyes when you stepped into the kitchen. You could practically imagine sparkles dancing around the fluffy pancakes and still sizzling pans of various breakfast meats.

You helped yourself to a meal, carefully stepping around the growing crowd of other guests, who all, for the most part, seemed a little aggravated at being woken up but nonetheless pleased at the free meal.

A brief hush filled the room as the air seemed to get just a bit heavier, more ominous, alongside the new presence of a prickling against your skin. You didn’t have to look up, nor did you even want to look up, to know who the culprit of such a suffocated atmosphere was; you knew him well enough.

The kitchen slowly came back to life, albeit a bit stiffer and with quieter conversation. You kept your eyes glued to your plate of food as you made your way towards the dining area. As you passed through the entrance, out of your peripheral you saw the large, looming figure of the demon you had become unnaturally attached to. You didn’t look up or even acknowledge him, pretending to just not notice, but you could swear you felt his red gaze burning a hole in your skin.

A few minutes passed after you sat down before Alastor joined you, sitting in his unofficial assigned seat. The only difference was he didn’t scoot his chair nearly as close as usual, as well as the way his body was turned just slightly so that his back was facing you. Not enough to be noticed by other people, but just enough for you—though, maybe you were just overanalyzing things?—to notice how he was pointedly uninviting you from any interactions with him.

Why even bother coming to breakfast, you thought coldly to yourself, deciding to just feel mad about it instead of stewing in your own self-hate and regret. You had already spent all morning feeling stupid for the night before. It’s not like you even eat this shit. Go eat a dead deer or something.

Your fork poked aggressively against the food on your plate, head propped up against a fist as you mindlessly scooted the food around in a pool of syrup. You hoped to convey some sense of hatred to the demon next to you as you jammed a fluffy bite of pancake into your mouth—oh, that’s so good, your spirits were lifted just a bit as the slightly sweet and buttery pancake touched your tongue.

A hand touched your back, and you jolted in surprise. Naturally your eyes first went to Alastor next to you, thinking maybe he was finally over himself, but he had his hands folded on the table in front of him as he watched another table argue over something probably meaningless. Maybe you’re crazy, but did you see his eyes flick to your just as you looked away? You shook off the idea.

Vaggie sat to your right, and was currently eyeing you with a hint of concern in her eye. You shrugged off her hand as politely as possible before smiling at her with a raised eyebrow, trying to play it off with an ‘I’m alright.’

“People that are ‘alright’ don’t usually have some personal vendetta against a plate of breakfast food,” She said in a low voice, trying to keep your conversation private, particularly from a certain set of prying, fluffy red ears. “You know you have friends here. Especially Charlie.”

“Really, I’m all good, just… long morning,” You did your best to wave away her worries again, suddenly feeling a little childish. From the way she spoke, you would think she was talking to someone going through something serious—you were just having some guy problems.

It seemed to work well enough, because after looking at you for a few more beats she raised her hand and turned away, picking up a conversation with her girlfriend. You sat in your spot for a few more minutes, but the growing anxiety from silently and awkwardly sitting next to Alastor, sifting through so many racing thoughts and doubts, gnawed at your stomach. You finally stood up and excused yourself with a thank you and left the room.

You had no specific place to be, so you just wandered into the lobby and slumped against a couch. You briefly wondered where Angel was; he was surprisingly good at listening to romantic troubles, though honestly you probably wouldn’t divulge your whole “thing” with Alastor. That would probably meet no welcomed response.

You must have dozed off, because the sudden sound of raised voices startled your eyes open. Arguments and general anger were commonplace here, so you weren’t particularly shocked to find Vaggie and Angel Dust going at it about something regarding his behavior and the Hotel—a recurring theme in their conversations. Vaggie’s words fell on deaf ears as Angel tutted at her words with a waving and dismissive hand.

“I’m sure ninety percent of these guests would love to have a piece’a me!” He said, taking long strides across the room as he fixed up his chest fluff with two hands. He leaned his hip against the large chair that, much to your dismay, sat Alastor, his grin tightening as Angel approached. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as the spider laid his torso across the head of the chair.

“Even this one…” Angel said with a pouty lilt in his voice, finger dragging up the embellishments as he tried to play flirty. Alastor clicked his tongue distastefully in response before he stood up, hands folding neatly across the top of his cane.

“Not quite to my taste, thank you!” He said, looking down at Angel with an ugly curl in his lip. Angel only huffed in response before slinking down the back of the chair and taking up the space where Alastor previously sat, leaving said demon just standing there.

Alastor’s eyes glanced at you, so brief that you honestly may have imagined it, before he simply hummed with closed eyes and melted into the ground, the shadow where he once stood inking across the carpet before finally coming to a rest… behind the couch where you were laying. You grimaced as you felt his presence manifest again, sending a ripple of that familiar prickle down your bare arms.

Was this going to be your eternity now? Playing some game of cat and mouse where you have to leave every room you’re in just because Alastor gets too close for comfort? You turned your head to try to get a look at him from the corner of your eye, but immediately looked away again when you saw he was already looking at you. You couldn’t read his expression.

You sat up and thought for a few moments. Honestly, it was probably best to just go spend a depression day alone in your room. As pushy as Alastor could be, he wasn’t typically the type to barge into rooms without invitation.

Slowly standing, you managed to avoid the attention of the couple of others in the room—though, realistically, none would care if they happened to see you leave; you were just on edge to everyone and everything. You quickly made your way up the stairs, frowning down at your feet as you walked. You shot a sideways glance at Alastor as you rounded a turn in the steps, finally meeting his gaze for a few seconds before your view was blocked by the wall.

You sighed as you found yourself in front of your hotel room, a heavy feeling making you suddenly choke up. You ushered yourself into the room before you embarrassed yourself by crying openly in the hallway, but the comforting solitude of your room as you leaned your back against the door to close it made it a bit easier to breathe.

After ensuring the door was locked, you went to stand at the edge of the bed, frowning down at the still unmade sheets. Thoughts of that tender night came to the front of your mind at full force, and you bit your lip anxiously. The warmth of his body against yours, the tangle of legs and soft touches of lips… was it all actually, in a cruel turn of reality, a fake expression of care from him? When you had finally begun to think you could read the affection on his face…

You settled into the soft mattress, uncomfortably aware of how big and cold it was. You were no stranger to sleeping alone by any means, but after finally experiencing the shared space with someone you loved, the contrast was stark and unwelcomed. You did your best to ignore it as you tucked yourself in, letting your eyes fall shut in a poor attempt to sleep away your worries.

Your attempts were unsuccessful, and an empty feeling of longing and despair in your stomach grew stronger with each hour that passed as you watched the red hue of the daylight sky turn darker. You felt both restless and tired at the same time, lacking any energy to actually do anything to pass the time. 

It all proved to be counterintuitive to the whole “sleep your worries away” as the hours you spent just lying down only gave you ample opportunity to melt in your own thoughts as the memories of last night kept returning. Man, why did you have to kiss him? You unwittingly ignored the fact that he had also played a part in closing that gap between you; you were honestly just pinning the blame fully on yourself.

Finally sick of stewing in misery, you kicked off the heavy blanket and stood up. You needed some fresh air. 

You tried to walk quickly with a fake sense of purpose so, in the odd chance you passed someone, they hopefully wouldn’t ask about your absence all day—you were typically more present and friendly with everybody as you would often help Charlie with event organization. Lucky enough for you, you passed nobody on your way to the door that opened to some stairs up to the roof of the Hotel.

After a quick pace up the echoey, metal steps, you pushed open the large doors and greeted with a pleasantly cool rush of wind. It was still warm, of course, being Hell and all, but cooler than usual. You quietly closed the heavy doors behind you.

There was a spot on the roof you typically sat at during long, restless nights, and you turned the corner of the door before promptly backtracking and pressing yourself up against the metal door once again, jaw clenched in a mix of shock and anger.

Why the Hell was Alastor on the roof at your spot with your blanket that you had left up here on some previous night? Was he doing all this on purpose? Constantly getting all too close to you while simultaneously acting cool and indifferent towards your existence? Was this all just some sick game to him? Well… it is Alastor.

You peeked over the edge from where you hid to get a better look at him. He sat serenely with his back towards you, legs hanging over the edge of the roof. You couldn’t see his expression, but his body waved just slightly, most likely to the tune of some song in his head. Despite all the frustration you felt in your soul towards him, looking at him under the blanket of a dark red sky with a sprinkling of stars… he still endeared you. Especially when he looked so harmless and relaxed.

Just as you were about to turn away again and find somewhere else to relax, he cleared his throat, stopping you before you could even move.

“It’s rude to stare,” He stated, projecting his voice just enough for you to hear the light humor in his voice. “You seem like a stalker, darling!”

You straightened your shoulders before walking out from behind the wall, a frown on your face. You didn’t walk any closer—God forbid you accidentally do anything to hurt your relationship anymore, if that was even possible.

“I didn’t mean to, I was just… surprised, that’s all,” You reasoned, tapping your foot impatiently. “You are kind of in my spot.”

He hummed, absently pointing at the surface around him. “I didn’t see your name on it.” 

You couldn’t really think of a response quickly, so you just stayed quiet, continuing to just stand in place a few meters away from Alastor.

He briefly put his hand down on the space next to him, patting twice in a vague invitation for you to join him. You thought for a brief moment before cautiously walking towards him, steps growing slower with each foot you got closer. He made no move to send you away—in fact, he even started moving the blanket in a way to make the concrete just a bit more comfortable to sit on. He still didn’t look at you.

Embarrassingly your hands had started to shake, which you realized when you reached your hand down to support your body as you lowered it to sit. You just hoped Alastor didn’t notice. You let your legs fall over the ledge, swinging slightly next to Alastor’s. You didn’t notice how he shifted his knee a bit closer to yours.

The two of you sat in silence under the still-darkening sky, and you couldn’t decide if it was a comfortable or awkward silence. Alastor didn’t seem to mind, so you tried to convince yourself it was comfortable despite the itching anxiety in your chest.

“I’m really sorry about last night,” You blurted out, unable to contain it anymore. Was it a bad idea to even bring it up? Maybe. But you felt that your relationship was already irreparably damaged so it couldn’t hurt to at least apologize. You saw his eyes turn towards you out of your peripheral, and you were too ashamed to meet his look, instead opting to fiddle with a fray of the blanket edge.

“Whatever for?” He responded after an uncomfortably long pause—this stunned you. Fuck you mean ‘whatever for?’ Your head whipped up to look at him, brows furrowed.

You had spent all die scared that you ruined everything between you and Alastor, regretting everything that led up to last night’s events—it didn’t help that Alastor himself was also blatantly avoiding you. What the fuck is he acting so confused for?

Apparently you said that all out loud, as Alastor’s smile was growing more and more strained with each loud word that tumbled from your lips. You didn’t even realize until you were done and catching your breath, but at this point you couldn’t care less to apologize or feel bad about it. You folded your arms and fixated your eyes on some random pedestrian below as another long stretch of silence filled the air.

“You confuse me,” He finally said, with a voice that lacked its usual radio tone. You didn’t respond, so he continued. “I feel these alien emotions when I’m near you—you bewitch me. And I don’t like it. I hate you for it.”

You couldn’t control the slight slump in your shoulders and the sharp pang in your stomach that his words brought you. Hate. 

“But… I kill the demons I hate,” He said, looking away from you and up at the sky. “And I can’t find myself wanting to kill you. That has to mean something, though I’m really no man to figure it out myself.”

You cautiously returned your eyes back to him, shoulders curled forward as if to protect yourself against the blow of any harsh words. But, as he spoke, you felt that anxiety slowly lighten as you pieced together what he was trying to convey in his own strange way. Although, you weren’t really sure what to say in response, filled with too many swarming emotions—both new and old. 

Suddenly you looked at the space between the two of you—was Alastor’s hand there just a minute ago? You looked up to try to get any hint of his goals; but, unsurprisingly, he remained unreadable. It was definitely safer to just ignore it.

Well, that got a lot harder when his pinkie finger stretched towards you just a bit, practically inviting you. You looked at his face one more time, swallowed your fear, and tenderly laid your hand down next to his. You moved it cautiously closer, just enough so that your pinkie touched his own. His lifted up and curled over yours, tightening in a way to bring the rest of your hand closer and enveloping it with his own. Your gaze was fixated on this exchange and you felt heat warm your cheeks and ears.

You both said nothing, but you thought the pounding in your ears would drown out any attempt.

Your attention finally broke from the hands that now clasped together between the two of you, turning up towards Alastor. You found that he had been looking at you with such an intensity it made you feel like an open book before him. His eyes had a slight glow to them now that the sky had fully darkened—eyes that were usually so malicious and secretive seemed to now burn with what you could only assume was affection.

“I can’t promise I’ll be a good man,” He finally broke the silence. His smile was small but strained, and his voice uncharacteristically quiet. 

In response you shook your head with a breathless laugh, tightening your hand just slightly around his as you focused on the street below, watching the scattered presence of night owl demons.

“I probably couldn’t promise the same, either,” You admitted, leaning back and stretching out your legs in the open air over the ledge of the roof. You froze momentarily when Alastor shifted a bit closer, his knee now barely knocking against yours.

He reached his hand out, fingers curling gingerly but firm over your chin and pulling your face closer to his. He examined your face for a moment, red eyes trailing over every curve of your features before settling back to look into your eyes.

“But I can promise, cher,” The new name he referred to you as made the already present flush in your cheeks only intensify. “That as long as you own what’s left of my heart, no demon in Hell can keep you away from me. Not even you.”

His words were spoken almost like a threat in an ominously low tone, that heavy radio affliction dripping from his words. In his eyes was a sudden look of sinister intensity and devotion, something you had never even dreamed of seeing, especially from him and especially towards you. As menacing as the words seemed, you couldn’t stop the wry smirk that inched up your lips, slightly smushed between his fingers that still firmly held your head in place.

“I’d like to see anyone try,” You responded in an attempt to match his energy. This seemed good enough for him, as his smile lifted for a moment as he released you from his grasp and faced forward again.

You yawned and stretched out your arms above your head, popping a few bones in your back before you stood. He followed suit, deftly touching his clothes with one hand to smooth any wrinkles or crooked buttons—his other was still holding your own.

He stepped closer, nearly pressed against you, when suddenly the atmosphere around you seemed to melt in a swirl of black before being replaced with the familiar decor of your hotel room. He gave you a light nudge and you fell back onto the bed.

After recuperating and settling, you watched him from your spot on the bed as he draped off his coat and slacks before joining you in the sheets. His body language was tense and unsure, but to your own pleasure the stiffness in his shoulders lightened just a bit when your hands tenderly rubbed against his skin.

The bed that was only hours before too big and too cold was now inviting with the warmth of Alastor’s body against your own, his scent filling your nose with every inhale as his hair brushed against your cheek. Every movement was a shaky blur as you were still filled with a sense of disbelief and maybe a little bit of adrenaline from the unexpected switch-up from him. The mattress dipped and creaked as he tried to make himself comfortable, which took an awkward few seconds, but after finally settling in you found yourself laid against his chest, fingers trailing down his skin.

Alastor’s own clawed fingers trailed through your hair and he hummed the quietest tune, lulling you further into an exhaustion that you didn’t realize had been creeping up on you. You fell asleep to a comfort that you hoped you wouldn’t have to spend another day in eternity without.

[bradshawed]

Sick Days & Cancelled Dates

summary — poor bobby passing the nasty bug onto you, meaning you lay in bed on a hot summer’s day. don’t worry, you won’t be alone, not for long…

warnings — jacob thomas seresin’s eyes, fluff, disgusting niceness, cooking, mentions of food, no use of y/n, slight tension, more nice stuff, it’s just a cute little one shot really

word count — 1k words

so i completely gave up on adding pictures to this one because i just wanted to get it published but i hope you get the gist. sorry that it took so bloody long to publish, i’ve been insanely busy but hopefully i can get some stuff out every once in a while. hope you all like it and feel free to lmk if you guys want sick jake or dagger squad too xx

the love olympics masterlist.

Waking up with a sore throat you’d instantly felt the telltale signs of a cold as you closed your eyes, laying back in bed with a dramatic groan. Who even gets a cold in summer?

Flashbacks flip through your mind as you roll onto your side burying yourself under the bedsheets, replaying the moment you delivered Bob, a very sick Bob, some homemade soup a couple of days ago. It had only been for a second and yet he’d somehow managed to pass the cold onto you. You still loved him but times like these you hated that Bob got ill so easily.

Falling back asleep, you decided was the best course of action, or it would’ve been if you hadn’t heard a pair of very familiar footsteps running up the staircase to your bedroom waking you up, not even half an hour later. It was definitely a terrible idea to give him a key.

Hiding in your duvet burrito, you grabbed a pillow and flung it in the general direction of the noise in your room, smiling when you heard a dramatic ‘ow’ when you made contact. It was definitely worth the sacrifice of your pillow and the extra comfort. Especially when he fell to the floor as if he’d been acting out a death scene in a play in high school, typical Jake. It did however, make you wonder if he could’ve been a theatre kid..maybe in another life. You smiled as you drifted off to sleep again with the thoughts of actor Jake in your mind.

Seresin, assessing the situation (poking at your body until you yelled at him to tell him to leave you alone because you were sick), decided to go back downstairs to make you something to eat. He had been greatly worried since you were late for the day out you’d planned together and hadn’t answered your phone so he called Bradley who told him to kindly leave him alone on his day off and reminded him to use the key you’d given Jake for emergencies. So that’s exactly what he did…

A couple of hours later, you shuffled downstairs, refusing to give up your burrito of warmth just yet, to meet a snoring Jake on your couch, Mamma Mia playing in the background. The delicious smell wafting from the kitchen made your stomach rumble but you felt bad eating without him so you jumped on top of his sleeping body on the couch, effectively waking him up.

In hindsight, you should’ve anticipated his reflexes grabbing hold of your body which had unraveled from the duvet, holding you closer to him than either of you expected.

“Morning,” you sent a soft reply back, far too flustered from the position you were both in as well as his morning voice. Jake’s hand reached up to move a couple of wild strands of hair away from your forehead as he checked your temperature with the back of his hand with a gentle hum on his voice, “still a little warm but better than before”. You nodded in reply, a little entranced by the flecks of gold in the green of his eyes.

Jake noticed. He always notices. Or more accurately, he always notices you. His grip on your body tightened ever so slightly as he let himself get lost in the moment before gently moving your body off his. He shook his head lightly, reminding himself that he was only here to outdo you on the dates and win (you over), nothing more, nothing less.

You took a minute to breathe, gaining your composure before following him into the kitchen where he began heating and plating up the food he’d prepared.

“So Chef Seresin, what have you prepared for me today?”

“Well Chef, today we’ve got a classic Seresin household Sick Day Soup, I can’t tell you the ingredients because it’s a secret recipe, if I tell you it won’t work. Oh and a cheese toastie made from that sourdough loaf from the market that you like.”

Your eyes widened at that because you definitely didn’t have a single slice of bread in your apartment until that moment so that must have meant that- you punched Jake in the arm, the ‘ow’ was justified for him being too nice and driving an hour to go to your favourite market. God the urge to kiss him or punch him again was getting harder by each passing second.

Jake, sensing some sort of inner turmoil within you chose to move himself to a slightly safer area by grabbing the dishes and moving them to the coffee table, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead as he moved past you.

After you’d both eaten yourselves into a delicious food coma, and Jake had washed the dishes, much to your chagrin, you felt a wave of fatigue rush over you just as he’d appeared with a bunch of painkillers and cold medicine and a glass of water.

“Thank you for today, I really appreciate it. You didn’t have to-” you stopped yourself having seen the look in his eyes, “but thank you. I saw the picnic basket in the kitchen and I’m sorry for ruining your plans. We can still go out if you want, I feel so much better, plus I just took the medicine.”

He sighed sadly at that, you weren’t ruining anything, and Jake made sure to take the time to tell you that before carrying you up to your bedroom. He definitely didn’t have to do that but you honestly did not mind one bit.

Waking up a couple of hours later, you discovered a bouquet of flowers arranged in a vase in your kitchen, as well as a note in his flowy handwriting mentioning that dinner was in the oven waiting to be heated up. The huge smile on your face wasn’t going to disappear any time soon.

Good thing you got to return he favour the next day with Jake soon catching the bug along with the other aviators in quick succession after that.

tags — @waklman @sematarygirls @djs8891 @kmc1989 @dempy message/comment to be added to the tag list xx

[suraemoon]

It Couldn’t Be Better

Elvis x Reader - snippets of Elvis’ first Christmas with your family

Warnings: None really, just fluff and flirting

WC: 3.8k (was supposed to a blurb idk what happened)

A/N: Look, I’m aware that this isn’t good and is all over the place. I’d spend a few more days on it if I could but today is Christmas (yay!) and it would make no sense to post it any other day. I put in my masterlist that this would hopefully be out by the 25th and here it is. It’s based on the prompts “It could be worse” and something along the lines of “a character’s parent makes them tacky christmas sweaters” Merry Christmas y’all!!!!! I LOVE YOU.

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“It could be worse.” Your voice radiates fake optimism as your manicured nails pick a piece of lint from the homemade, bright red knitted sweater on your upper half.

You look up from your quick maintenance to be met with Elvis’ scrunched nose and concentrated eyes as his hand pulls on his sweater's borderline turtleneck collar, a bright “Christmas tree” green to complement yours festively.

The sweaters were beautifully knit with white stripes going back in forth in turn with the chosen festive color. Glued on the knit were an array of tinseled pompoms and ironed on were different designs of patches. Smiles, hearts, stars, animals, santa’s, snowflakes, etc; they all looked like they’d be better suited on a girl’s poodle skirt. “Eh..I guess.”

Your mama had sent you two up to your bedroom to get ready in time for Christmas dinner with your whole extended family.

From her spot next to the stove in the kitchen, one that seemed permanent for her during the holiday season, Mama was cooking up her signature feast and the scent of food filled the air teasingly. The smell enveloped everyone and only built up anticipation for later in the day.

Earlier in the day, when the cold wind flowed in anticipation and the white snowflakes made themselves home, you and your boyfriend had been tasked with cleaning the whole house from top to bottom.

One of the most famous men in the country having his first Christmas at your house? Mama was quick to put a broom in his hand for she had the elder generational quality to not spend her time focusing on pop culture and society but instead what needed to be done in order to keep her home running smoothly, especially during the holidays.

“You need to wash my windows, clean my counters, sweep and mop the floors…”

You couldn’t stop a huff from leaving your lips at the housekeeping task for this was the first year that you desired to be in the kitchen, observant to her methods and helping when you can.

Your mother was easily the best cook you knew, she knew the kitchen like the back of her hand, and with your growing relationship with Elvis starting to become more and more serious, you started thinking about your own cooking skills…well the lack of.

One day you will be handed the baton of Thanksgiving and Christmas meals and there’s no harm in trying to learn the ins and outs of it now.

“You need to give the dog a bath, make sure every bedroom in the house looks neat…”

The urge to be a housewife never striked upon your young ambitious mind until you met Mr. Elvis Presley. He unknowingly had the ability to cooking, cleaning, and raising children seemed so much more desirable. A life centered around being his subservient, supportive wife seemed delicious when his hand was intertwined in yours. A few years ago, a younger and singler you would’ve called yourself crazy. Nowadays you just call yourself in love.

“You got it, ma’am.”

Elvis met this list of chores as long as Santa Claus’ list with a smile for he was a restless person always looking for something to do, always searching for an excuse to move, and you knew deep down that he missed his own mama telling him to do stuff.

Now, a few hours later, that genuine go-with-the-flow grin was replaced with the tug of his lip genuinely trying its best to exude politeness as his hand tugged on the collar of his christmas sweater again, the top of his pale collarbone teasing you in the process.

The sun was now lower in the sky but the clouds did not tire from dropping snowflakes anywhere they could. The warm light of your lamp illuminated your freshly tidied room.

It fit the comfort of the holiday spirit better than the sunshine of the early day where brightness flowed through every window as you cleaned them with a rag, the circular motion of your hand mirrored the making of a snowball. Now the view out of the window was a grayish storm of flurries, weather in which a warm sweater would come in handy.

To make light of an awkward situation, you decide to embrace it and do a quick spin in front of him, showing off your full festive outfit. The cranberry red of your oversized sweater is paired with a black leather mini skirt and black leather boots to match.

It’s an outfit that you wouldn’t usually ever wear for a family event like this. But your boyfriend's overwhelming presence: fingers that you knew would always intertwine with yours as if meant to be, an arm that would never fail to wrap around your waist, feet that would always gravitate towards being around you, it all filled you with an indescribable sense of confidence.

The pure sex appeal Elvis exuded 24/7, seemingly effortless as if the attraction comes with his nature, always inclined you to put your all into matching it’s magnetic energy. The spin stops and your feet go to tippy toes to reach up and kiss his sugar plum lips. “What do ya think?”

Elvis wets his lips as if your lipstick had a flavor and his eyes look you over your figure fully as he takes your hand to give you a quick little twirl. Instead of a full 360 it was more of two 180’s since he stopped a second to take a quick look at your back side.

A low whistle was the background music to the rest of your orbit and his cheeky little smile seemed to glow when in the presence of your maroon red lipstick. “I think I gotta see what’s under it. Gonna let me do a little inspection? Wanna make sure everything’s sitting right…working the way it’s sposed ta.”

“Elvis! It’s Christmas…gotta be family friendly.”

He chuckles as a response comes too quickly to brain, “I wanna get real friendly with you, honey.”

You hit his shoulder playfully, “Stop that.”

“Hey! It’s Christmas, honey. Thought we had to be family friendly and that hitting ain’t very holly jolly of ya. I’m surprised Santa didn’t give ya coal this year.”

“Oh please. I don’t think Santa would mind me putting ya in line for naughty thoughts.”

“I don’t think Santa would mind me bending ya over my knee for a smart mouth but…” He shrugs, putting his sleeves in his pants pockets.

You stick out your tongue at him and he laughs his beautiful laugh. Gliding as if on ice back to the mirror of your vanity, you apply some more blush to your cheeks. Getting a little too warm and secretly having the cheeky desire to show more skin, you subconsciously fold the ribbed collar of your sweater down a little bit.

When met with the black and purple of a hickey on the side of your neck, immediately the collar is put back in its original place, the fabric willing to revert back to how it was supposed to be worn and mocking you in the process as if saying “told you so”.

A whisper escapes your lip, “Jesus…”

Elvis perks up from the seat he has taken on your bed in response, for he loves an opportunity to talk to (and tease) his favorite girl, “Lord’s name in vain on his birthday?”

Your eyes, framed by black liner and an eyeshadowed lid, meet his through the mirror of the vanity, “Elvis what’d ya do to my neck? It ain’t ever been this much before.”

“Hmm…” His arms are at his sides, stabilizing himself against the plush of the comforter, and he looks simply adorable with his false pout as if thinking of a smart remark to respond with.

“Hm indeed.”

He chuckles, “Today about love ain’t it? You don’t wanna put ya collar down and show everyone how much I love ya?”

“Elvis…”

As if automatic, your eyes roll playfully and he decides to continue, “Not gonna show off that pretty little neck, huh? You always look pretty but you look even prettier when you’re all marked up…all claimed.”

“You’re too much.” You shake your head, trying to cool off the influx of red that has awoken on your cheeks.

“People wanna know which one’s E.P.’s girl? Oh, they’ll know. She got the love marks to prove it. She’s the only girl I wanna love on.”

Your soft hands go up to cover your face but they make sure to keep a safe distance in order to not mess up the canvas of progress you have made at the vanity. “Shoo…you’re too distracting. I gotta finish my makeup.”

“So…?”

“So…they’re staying covered.”

A few minutes later, he speaks again from a spot on your bed as you apply the finishing touches of your makeup. “No offense to your mama, honey, but…I don't think homemade holiday sweaters are really in trend. Not these ones at least.”

His slight frown gives way to a bright laugh, a sound prettier than the jingle bells adorning the sleeves of his sweeter.

“Everyone’s gonna be wearing one so we’re all gonna be weird together.”

“Mm.”

“Last year was polka dots…polka dots. So count yourself lucky you weren’t around for that.”

Your mother’s homemade knitted wool Christmas sweaters have been a longstanding tradition in your family since….forever. When asked, it was your great-great grandmother that started it years ago. Or was it your great-great-great grandma? No one would be surprised if the family’s Christmas sweater fascination started way back in the simple days of the cavemen when your neanderthal ancestors were in need of warmth and for some odd reason in addition to fire and sharpened sticks, they had the supplies to create tacky garments of clothing.

You and Elvis started dating in January, so this year was full of firsts with this cold December wrapping it up lovingly in a snug little bow.

When dinner was served at Elvis’ first Thanksgiving with your family, the unusual but warmly content silence around the large, wooden dinner table was interrupted abruptly by your mother’s sudden thought. A soft gasp called for hungry heads to look up from their plates.

You would think there was a lightbulb above her head or that an epiphany to solve world hunger was in her thoughts. Your mama looked at Elvis with a gleeful smile, “I’ve gotta ‘nother Christmas sweater to make this year!” You remember the way Elvis’ smile was apprehension coating in politeness, wondering what the hell she was talking about. Your mama made clothes? How has that never come up?

His blue eyes widened for a full second about two weeks later when he was sat quickly by your mother on the couch with a gift box practically shoved in his hands. “Sit, sit ,sit!” Your mama said as if a little kid again.

The same eagerness did not translate to when you sat down, as by now you knew the routine by heart. You got practically the same gift two weeks before Christmas every single year. Just different designs, patterns, and decor but in its essence the same gift filled with the same love. This was always around the time when mama gave everyone there sweaters either in person or by mail.

Now that you think about it…this giftbox looks suspiciously similar to the same one you opened last year. Is that why your mama made sure you were careful not to break it?

The ornaments on the tree, a brand new one from last year right next to one you crafted out of popsicle sticks and cardboard in kindergarten. The nostalgia and newness blended seamlessly on the forest green branches.

The opening of boxes takes attention away from the tree, a happy presence willing to blend into the background the best it can. Your perfectly wrapped and ribboned rectangle has not even been touched but you watch intently as Elvis tries to carefully peel the tape off the side of the box. Your mother wouldn’t have minded if he tore it to shreds. She would’ve told you off if you had dared, but with Elvis it would’ve been alright.

“Y-you really didn’t hafta get me anything, ma’am. It’s real kind of you.”

Your mother replies matter of factly, “Are you kidding? It’s Christmas! Of course I had to give my son-in-law something.” You and Elvis weren’t married. Not yet. But the law of the heart doesn’t care about physical papers. In the minds of your welcoming family, new people were accepted with open arms and once their hearts got on Elvis they never want him to go.

Elvis brings his attention to you for the first time in a while, lifting your chin up gently with his hands as he admires your face. “You already blessed me with your beautiful daughter. She’s better than any gift, no doubt.” A shade of pink flushes over your face as Elvis gives you a quick, soft kiss.

“Awww. My two little turtle doves. Well, I’m allowed to give ya more than one gift so go ‘head.”

When the top of the box is lifted off, a tiny sweet sounding gasp escapes Elvis’ lips as his eyes fall on the christmas sweater. “O-oh…wow, ma’am. It’s, it’s really somethin’.”

Mama watches intently, “Do ya like it?”

He could pass for a deer in headlights. “More than like it. I can’t wait to wear it for um..Christmas.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the false enthusiasm and at this noise mom’s attention turns straight to you and the box on your lap, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms, “Are you too cool in front of your boyfriend to open yours?”

Shaking your head, the faint sound of Christmas radio sings in your ears as you open your first gift of Christmas. It’s red to go with Elvis’ green. Youthful to contrast with a growing daughter, homey and nostalgic to compete with a fast, changing lifestyle.

Your smile is genuine as you reply, “Thanks mama. It’s really nice.”

All three of you share the most comfortable of silences. It wasn’t silent really, music flowed through the room and firewood crackled; the background ambience that makes any December day anymore special.

The memories of your mother and her cute interactions with your boyfriend (all of which showing she approved of him greatly) was interrupted by the voice of the man himself. All of sudden you were brought back where you were: in your room getting ready with the person you love the most on the 25th of December.

“You ready to go down, honey? I think I heard some people walk in.”

“Oh..yeah! Let’s go.” Taking his hand, you walk over to the door.

“Wait a second…” Your mind immediately goes to the lamp you left on but his mind is somewhere else completely. He leans down to kiss you, long and hard. The unexpected passion takes you back but your heels stay steady on the ground, all of your attention on kissing him back with the same fervidity. His calloused hand is on your soft cheek and your fingers flow through his black hair. You want the moment to never end but like all things in life it inevitably does.

“Now we can go.” His smirk is teasing and playful. He knows the effect he has on you. He knows by your red cheeks and wide eyes how weak he can make you.

“I-” Practically speechless you just nod and take his hand, walking shakily out of the door. He laughs at the sudden urgency, slapping your behind playfully as you walk in front of him.

When your face, your whole body for that matter, started to become less warm and all of the many happy greetings to family and friends were finished, the evening was going splendidly. Laughs and cheer filled the space and joy at being back together radiated off of everyone in the room.

This year, you started to become more aware of not only yourself but your surroundings. What would this look like to a fly on the wall? What would it look like to a man attending his first Christmas with the loved ones that you have grown up being accustomed to? The Christmas tree shined brightly, decorated with a mismatched array of ornaments that went together perfectly. Every seat had a person and the garlands that Elvis hung up on the walls looked down at everyone adoringly.

From your spot standing in the open arched doorway connecting the dining room and living room you are a true wall flower for a moment. You notice how the group of younger teenage cousins brought their friends over for dinner for the first time ever and it just so happened to be the year where Elvis Presley started to attend the gathering. Giggles and whispers came from the corners of the living room, juveniles no longer embarrassed by matching tacky sweaters.

Looking away, your knowing smirk turns into a wide, adoring smile as you turn your attention to Elvis playing with your littlest cousins on the fluffy rug.

Unlike their older counterparts, their innocent smiles are refreshing for they are oblivious to the fact that it is the Elvis Presley playing with them.

To the little ones, he’s just Mr. Elvis, a friend to play with. He’s cradling the youngest baby gently in his arms while sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor. A toddler in two pigtails and a bright pink knit sweater plays in his gelled hair as if on an oblivious mission to mess it up.

Little Jane managed to get her hand on a brush and was trying to play make-believe hair salon with your boyfriend. “Sit still, Mr. Elvis!”

“Oops.” Elvis winces as the hard brush hits him on the side of the head. “I’m trying, honey, I really am. Hard when you’re trying ta pull my hair out.”

“I’m tryna make ya look pretty! If you wanna look a mess just say it.”

“Maybe sometimes I wanna look a mess.”

She groans, “You hardly got a lotta hair anyway. It’s all shiny and too hard ta make ponies.” And just like that, with an attention span the size of her tiny legs, she abandons both Elvis and the brush to go play with a group of older kids about older elementary age.

Elvis chuckles lightly and focuses on the small baby still in his lap, trying to grab at him with chubby hands. His plush lashes flutter gently as he looks down and gives the little cherub all of his pretty attention and you swear right then and there, your heart was about to escape from your chest.

“Ain’t you the cutest? You’re the cutest, ain’t ya?” The baby giggles an infectious giggle and Elvis’ smirk is just as adorable.

“I gotta get myself one of ya. A cute little baby. A littlun just like you.”

“I gotta get myself one of ya.” He’s talking to a baby, and you’re his girlfriend, the only one who can help him with that wish. Stuck in place, your legs feel weak as you lean on the wall next to you for support and your stomach can be easily compared to a snow globe filled with a flurry of snowflakes. If hearts can do somersaults, yours has many times since you’ve met Elvis.

His hand envelops one of the baby’s white socks gently. “Tiny little sooties too.”

The baby’s gummy grin gets wider as he kicks his feet, fascinated with Elvis’ hand like a new toy. Your boyfriend moves up from the itty bitty feet to tickle the tiny belly lying in front of him, then his palm relaxes, moving up and down in a soothing motion over the little one’s soft sweater. By the way Elvis’ pink lips move you can tell he has started to sing a song. It’s a quiet melody just between him and the baby he's holding. The most beautiful, adorable secrets.

When you remember that you are an actual person in the room and your legs feel less like jello, in your head you decide to walk over to the spot on the rug where Elvis is sitting but before your heels could move a second step, the ringing of a bell fills the room.

“Dinner everyone!” The voice of your mother is a saving grace to every hungry soul in the house.

Elvis stands up, holding the baby securely as if he has been a professional at holding infants his whole life. The mother, your eldest cousin, walks over shyly with a blush on her face as she carefully takes the baby from Elvis’ arms so he could go eat.

“You’ve got a really cute daughter, honey…well her mama’s cute so I know where she got it from.”

Flustered, her mouth parts a little as she adjusts the smiley baby on her hip. “O-oh. Um..thank you. Thank you very much.”

He had a way of speaking, a beautiful charm, that could make any woman he comes across blush. No matter how long the sparkly wedding ring has been on their ring finger. By the way she looked at Elvis, you wouldn’t know that the young mother has been married to her actual husband for two years. You’d think the baby in her hands was Elvis’.

Elvis smirked his “I know what I’m doing” cheeky grin and kissed the baby’s cheek before walking away.

Suddenly, You and Elvis start to walk to each other simultaneously as if all that time apart wore you out and you needed another dose, attracting like the opposite sides of the strongest magnet, the two of you meet in the middle of the room.

You’re the next to get your cheek kissed and he whispers to you, “Remember when ya said earlier that things could be worse when I was grumbling ‘bout the sweater.”

“Oh, I remember.”

He holds your hand and begins to lead you to the kitchen as he finishes his thought. “I’ll tell ya. Today couldn’t get better, honey. It really couldn’t.”

As you walk, the voices of tiny children ring out suddenly, “Mistletoe! Mistletoe!” It took Elvis tapping your shoulder and pointing up to notice that the audience was addressing you and him. Through long lashes you look up and indeed a piece of green hangs above in the archway that you and Elvis stand in. To any on-looker the image of you two could’ve been a painting. You indeed felt frozen in time.

“It’s the mistletoe! That’s your boyfriend, you gotta kiss!” The tiny voices continued their protesting.

Elvis smiles at you, “Well, I guess it could get a little better. It’s bad luck to ignore the mistletoe. Need to feel ya on me…been too long.”

“Merry Christmas, Elvis.” Just like that, you reach up and kiss him, your thumb moving back and forth on his cheek as you tilt your head to the side. He starts kissing you back immediately and an eruption of tiny cheers fills the room.

[usmsgutterson]

I wanna love you til we’re food for the worms to eat- this one is summer fluff! Give me two activities/events you typically associate with summer, your character of choice and gender pref for the reader, and I’ll write 3000 words with that!

swimming and picnics withhhh nikolai <3

Sandwiches- N.L x gn! reader

Hi! Thank you for sending this in, it was a blast to write and I'm sorry it's taken me nearly a full two weeks. June has been a very busy month and I've only gotten my footing now that I'm in my last full week of school before exams and graduation, but still! Thank you for sending this in and thank you for your unending patience

As for requests generally, things will hopefully start coming out pretty steadily as of friday! I have a ton of wiggle room this week and even more over the next two and will be spending a lot of that time writing, which will hopefully help my productivity skyrocket lol.

I did go off the request a little (I involved genya, david, zoya, tolya, tamar, and nadia because otherwise I wouldn't've figured out how to move the fic forward) but I hope thats okay!

Fic type- this is just. this is pure fluff

Warnings- mentions of the darkling and what the darkling did to nikolai

Summers in Ravka had always been blisteringly hot. It was annoying, almost, but the transition from late spring to early summer came at you faster than you could've expected. Summer always felt like it was pulled out from under a rug and was never something you quite anticipated, especially not the sheer warmth of the sun beaming at you from nearly all directions.

The transition from spring to summer became especially obvious when you noticed the dandelions popping up in the fields, some of which Zoya collected and gave you for the lime and dandelion iced tea you'd make in big batches when the weather was at it's hottest. You loved the process and often could be found by the lake with Nikolai, drinking a glass of iced dandelion tea that'd been spiked with lime liquor or the dandelion wine Nikolai had shipped in from Novyi Zem during early spring.

That day, it seemed, was no different.

Well, it was slightly different. You and Nikolai had packed a picnic basket with all of the best food from the kitchens--sweet rolls galore, Nikolais favorite food and your own, a couple of the sweets you both liked, and the picnic staple: sandwiches.--and had put on your swimming clothes to spend the day in the lake.

The temperature was at a high of 30 degrees Celsius and it was too hot to focus on anything other than how hot it was while cooped up indoors, and as such Nikolai had given Tolya, Tamar, Nadia, Zoya, Genya, and David the day off. You'd not seen them yet but you had no doubt that Genya and David would find you in the lake eventually, Tamar and Nadia at their heels, Tolya and Zoya probably not far off either.

But, for the moment, you chose to enjoy things as they were. The water was cold, the lime and dandelion tea spiked with dandelion wine kept cold in an ice filled cooler, the sun cascading across the lake in beautiful beams of light. You were determined to enjoy the day and not be deterred by work or the responsibilities that you would step back into the moment you woke the following morning.

Your determination had proved to do wonders by the afternoon, when you had not thought of work since Nikolais arms had found your waist as you idly looked through the librarys catalogue and he'd whispered of a day spent by the lake as you soaked up the sun.

You'd spent most of that day just talking to him. Not focusing on work or having work related discussions, just standing waist level in the water with his arms around your shoulders, talking about the absolute, the complete and the utterly mundane. Your lives had gotten so busy that it was nice to not have to focus on work, and it was incredible to just ask him how he was doing and hear all of the boring particulars of being a royal in turn.

You waded further into the water as Nikolai asked: "What of you, love? Outside of work and going to sleep next to you every night, I feel like I don't know anything of you lately."

You grinned. "I've been reading a lot," you said. "Brushing up on foreign policy, helping Zoya maintain her garden and missing you, if I might dare to be completely candor. I love you, Nik, but how busy we've both gotten is ridiculous."

Nikolai laughed, and you laughed, and then you were turning your head and pressing a kiss to the left side of his jaw and your heart was going still, the rapid thump of it dissipating from your eardrums as it calmed. Part of you was waiting for Nikolai to make a silly but flirtatious remark to get it going again, knew that because Nikolai was Nikolai, it was really only a matter of time.

"I know," Nikolai said. "I've been horrid at managing my time as of late. I've got a relatively relaxed next while, though. Had my advisors make sure of it."

You pressed another kiss to his jaw. "I love you,"

Nikolai laughed. "I love you too."

The two of you carried on like that until the sun was burning low and the sunset was near, between an hour and thirty minutes away at least. You carried on laughing, making jabs and growing flustered whenever the other gave a flirtatious remark or a glorious smile.

You'd missed Nikolai more than you had thought, and every time he would laugh your heart would swell, your body filling with so much contentedness that you could've evaporated within the depths of it. Everything about Nikolai was the picture of calmness, assuredness and composure, and his presence was usually a constant as you were a consort--soon to rule alongside him, if he would ever propose--and worked within the depths of his palaces, a member of his council and one of his guards on the night shift a few days a week, waiting for the demon of the Darklings creation to come out of hiding as it did whenever you were not there to put him in the handcuffs he wore while he slept in the Darklings old quarters.

You had missed him like nothing else, and there was not a moment of that day that you weren't cherishing. It was a glorious day in summer, your mind was not focused on work or the particulars of the palace, and you were determined to enjoy it and do nothing but enjoy it.

You swam for a little longer, engaging in a splash war--which, with great humility, you ended up winning--against Nikolai and laughing when Nikolai tried to get you back for it twenty minutes later, claiming another victory against him within a solid ten minutes.

You relaxed, floated about the lake and let yourself stop thinking for a while, sat on the docks for a break to breathe and look at the sky while Nikolai floated about the lake and remarked about how relaxing it was to do so. You closed your eyes, created waves in the water by idly kicking your feet to keep it from getting too cold.

You opened your eyes again and reapplied sunscreen despite the sunset drawing nearer because you didn't want to take any risks with the health implications of not applying sunscreen at all. Nikolai approached and wrapped his arms around your waist, humming as you began to run your hands through his hair and massage his scalp, a comforting silence settling between the two of you as he idly ran his thumb up and down your hip.

"'M sorry I've been working so much," Nikolai said, breaking the silence as the sunset really started to close in on the two of you, the sky setting off into hues of oranges, reds, purples, light and dark blues and even a couple of spots of a deep blueish green. "Seeing you when we go to sleep or when you're putting me in chains in anticipation of the monster has been good, but I miss seeing you during the day. I'm sorry I let work cloud everything over for a while."

"It's as much my fault as it is yours," you said, pulling a hand through your own hair as your gaze moved to the sky again. Nikolai joined you on the dock, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he pulled you into his arms. The picnic food was to be eaten before the sun fully went down if all went according to plan, but you decided you'd let the two of you have your moment while you still could.

"I've been busy with things around the palaces. Helping Genya plan galas and palace events, helping David and Nadia with their experiments where possible, helping Zoya maintain her garden and looking after it when she got too busy to manage the upkeep, cleaning the kitchens in the afternoons and the early mornings for free sweet rolls and pastries from the cooks when they start baking just a bit after sunrise. We've been avoiding each other, I think, even if neither of us actually meant to do so. We both got really busy really randomly, but we've corrected our course, and everything is going to be okay. You don't need to apologize to me, Nik. I understand how life as a royal can get."

Nikolai smirked. "You'll be one soon enough, provided that I finally get my hands on a good enough ring."

You laughed. "I would be entirely willing to marry you with a ring made out of paper and twine, Mr. Lantsov. I do not need some fancy stone or excellently made ring to marry you. I've been willing to since we were nineteen years old," since you'd met him while he was Sturmhond, since you'd fallen in love with him while the two of you were at sea, and every day since. He was the love of your life, and, ring or no ring, that wasn't changing for anything.

Nikolai pressed a kiss to your lips--it was a quick peck, if anything--and it lingered, even as Nikolai opened the cooler and shot you a grin as he poured the iced lime and dandelion tea with the dandelion wine into two glasses.

You began to sort through the food from the picnic basket, passing out the first of a couple of different things between you and Nikolai when you heard the sound of an oh-so familiar scoff.

"They're not going to be out here," Zoya said as Tolya met your gaze, mouth splitting into a huge grin. "They've been MIA the entirety of today, but to spend the day by the lake? Nikolai is probably afraid that the lake water will ruin his oh-so effortless beauty."

"Or it's 30 degrees out today and effortless beauty be damned, Nikolai and Y/N decided to spend the day by the lake with dandelion tea and enough food to feed a small army," Tolya countered. Zoya met your gaze and just laughed.

"You convinced him, I'm guessing?" She asked. "You do love your swimming and picnics."

"It was entirely Niks idea," you responded. "I was going to spend my day in the library, but he quite literally whisked me away and now we're here. Tolya, there's an empty flask in the basket if you're wanting to pour iced tea into it. Fair warning, though, there's dandelion wine added to Niks taste."

Tolya gave you an appreciative nod as Zoya tossed you a towel from the bag you'd put them in near the edge of the docks closest to land. In thanks, you passed her your glass and let her take the first of the tea while you dried your hair and adjusted so that the towel acted as a barrier between you and the docks, thanking her when she filled the glass and passed it back.

"The AC is working better than we thought it would after the maintenance crews came in to fix the system a couple days back," Tolya said. "Though, true to it's roots, it's only working slightly in some places and doing overtime in others."

"The library in the Grand Palace feels like a bloody ice cube," Zoya said. "The corridors are well ventilated as it were, and they're cold enough to ease the sweating when you're walking around. The common rooms are well enough, too, but the meeting rooms and the dining rooms are less better off."

"Add an additional system," Nikolai said. "See what you can do to have an additional system installed, and make sure that the tea in the samovars is cold, at the minimum. The weather is going to hover between twenty-five and thirty degrees this week, so we need to do what we can to keep cool."

Tolya nodded as you took a sip of the tea, grinning at your beloved as he draped an arm over your shoulders and pulled you close.

"Enjoyed a day in the sun, then?" Tolya asked as Genya and David joined the four of you in relative silence, Nadia and Tamar also joining up not long after.

"We've been busy," Nikolai amended. "Took today to catch up, relax, and cool off while still getting enough vitamin D."

"You overbooked yourselves?" Tamar asked as you passed her a sandwich and grabbed your own. "At the same time, too? Saints, you're idiots. Idiots in love, but idiots even still." You glanced at Nikolai, who was barely managing to stifle a laugh.

"It's funny because it's true," David amended. You pressed your forehead against Nikolais shoulder to keep yourself from giggling, your shoulders shaking with silent laughter instead. You ate the first of your sandwiches and grabbed another, neither you or Nikolai saying anything and instead finding yourselves content to let your friends fill the silence instead.

You grabbed more tea for yourself and thanked the saints that the deserts you'd packed hadn't managed to ruin within the blazing heat of the summer sun once the deserts started getting passed about, idle chatter about up and coming events still swallowing the silence in random fits and starts.

You were content in the silence, though. Extremely content, so it seemed, and the bouts of silence were ones you didn't at all mind or feel bothered by.

How often did you get to have evenings like that one, anyway? Evenings where you, Nikolai, Zoya, Nadia, Tamar, Tolya, Genya, and David all crowded on the docks and ate all of the food you'd packed because some part of you had anticipated a few of them joining up anyway? How often did you get to get tipsy off of lime and dandelion tea with dandelion wine while you chatted with the people you loved like family and the man you were absolutely, completely and utterly certain you would marry?

The answer to that question was simpler than one might've thought. Nights like that were rare--so rare that you almost could not recall a night like it having occurred in the years since the civil war had ended. You were cherishing every moment, every bit of banter-y argument between Genya and Zoya, every quick kiss shared with Nikolai and every time your hand would find his where it rested on your shoulder and give it a squeeze.

It was summer nights exactly like that one that you loved the most. In the summer heat that Ravka typically dealt with, drinking tea with your closest friends.

At some point--likely close to eight--Tamar accidentally shoves Genya into the water. David goes to help her out and back up onto the dock, but she just grabs him by the hand and pulls him right in. Zoya jumps in before she can be pushed or shoved or experience an attempt at cajoling by Tamar or Nadia. Nadia dives in after her wife and Tolya does a cannonball that manages to have resounding water that falls gracefully in an arc over you and Nikolai onto the docks from a solid ten feet away.

You glance at Nikolai, grinning lightly as you catch the glinting mischief in his eyes.

"You've won against me in our water fights twice today," he said, smirk crossing his features. "What do you say I try to claim at least one victory before we head back into the palaces?"

You quirk an eyebrow. "Willing to make bets, Mr. Lantsov?"

"More than."

"If I win, we get the day off tomorrow. If you win, we can work a double for all I care."

"If I win, we ease up on our schedules in the evenings for the rest of the week, have picnic dinners out here, with more dandelion tea and wine than either of us will possibly be able to sanely consume."

You jumped into the lake at that, getting a safe distance away from him. You let him claim the victory and laugh as you realize your water fight has instigated another water fight where it's been split into teams of three, Tamar, Nadia, and Zoya against Genya, Tolya, and David.

You swam to join Zoya as she used her wind to make the splash of the water that much more powerful, where Nikolai joined David at his side.

"Easy week?" She asked as you sent a wave towards Nikolai.

"Easy evenings, lakeside picnic dinners."

"You picked good," Tamar said as she switched positions, Zoya on your right and Tamar on your left. "Not in the aspect of wave fights, but in terms of work."

You laughed. "I know I did," you said. "I have no doubted that I picked excellently for a moment since the very day I realized I had fallen in love with him."

"Contrary to your beliefs, I think Nikolai is the lucky one," Nadia amended as she sent a wind up and laughed as a large wave swathed her brother in law almost completely. "He's got the one and only person who makes decent dandelion tea in all of Ravka."

"I second that," Zoya said with a laugh. You sent a wave so big it got all of the opposing team at once, shouting your victory as Nikolai, Genya, David, and Tolya devolved into laughter.

Your heart was happy. You were so content in that moment that you never wanted it to come to an end.

-

Sometime later, after it had gone midnight and everyone else had gone to bed, you and Nikolai were drinking the last of the lime and dandelion tea and idly eating some of the unopened sandwiches that still remained. You were almost asleep, could feel Nikolais heartrate slowing beneath the palm that rested on his chest and indicating that he was just as tired as you were.

You were so overwhelmingly happy in that moment, the tea drank and the last of the food not having gone to waste in the end. You had a couple days more of sandwiches and dandelion tea to come, and you knew you'd appreciate each of them as much as you appreciated that day in and of itself.

[just-a-random-hobbit]

Miguel O'hara × Italian!spider!reader hcs

Idk don't ask, I was in the mood for writing smth w a lot of self insert SO

Here we go

It's gonna be messy sooooo sorry not sorry

! Yes, I'm studying Spanish at school, but I'm kinda an ass w it. Sorry for the mistakes !

Since you entered the spider society you only spoke English, but sometimes some Italian words slipped

Same thing happened w Miguel and a lot of times you heard him speaking w himself in Spanish

Next thing you know is that with Miguel you talk in Italian and he talks in Spanish with you, except for a few words yow two can understand each other

An example?

"MIG, TI HO PORTATO IL RAPPORTO SULL'ULTIMA MISSIONE"

"MIG, I GOT YOU THE REPORT ABT LAST MISSION"

"Mh bueno, dámelo"

"Mh good, give it to me"

"VA BENE MA DOVE CAZZO SEI?"

"ALRIGHT BUT WHERE TF ARE YOU?"

"¿PRQUE COÑO GRITAS? ESTOY AQUÍ, ¿DONDE PIENSES QUE ESTOY?"

"WHY TF R U SHOUTING?, I'M HERE, WHERE DO YOU THINK I AM?"

Lovely

Once you brought him some 'nduja (idk maybe you're from Calabria or went there for the holidays) and he loves that, I just know that he does, you can't say otherwise

If you like football you'd watch some matches w him and talk abt them for a few days

I also just know that you two talk shit abt Americans or people in general who cook an abomination and call it "Mexican food" or "Italian food"

Spices vs herbs, an endless war in the kitchen

Sometimes false friend words kick in and the conversation is hilarious

"Mmh ayer he comido unas gambas riquisimas"

"Mmh yesterday I have some delicious shrimps"

* disgusted * "tu cosa?"

"You what?"

(Gambas in Spanish means shrimp, in Italian it means leg) (omg idk if this is a word used in Spain and not in Latino America hold on a sec) (ok in Mexico it's camarón, can we pretend for a sec that it's also used gamba?) (It's not bc I don't have a lot of dialogue ideas, ofc not...)

"¿Me traes aquél vaso porfavor?"

"Can you hand me that glass please?"

* confused * "oook?" * hand him the flower vase *

(Vaso in Spanish means glass, in Italian it means flower vase)

(Ik these situations are really clichés but I still find them cute and funny)

You are siesta/pennichella mates

Now imgine if you get closer and closer w Miguel and invite him over for the Sunday lunch, (probably since you are a spiderperson you don't have a lot of relatives anymore, BUT LET'S IMAGINE THAT AT LEAST GRANDMA IT'S STILL WITH US)

Like- how cute it would be, w grandma saying to this beast of a man: "ma stai sciupato, mangia ancora qualcosa" ("you are so thin, eat some more") and he just keeps eating what she gives him bc he can't say no.

I also think that he's not really used to big family reunions, I read a few comics but I didn't catch any hint of a big family tree, so maybe he'd be kinda disoriented if you have a really big family.

For all my northern lovelies (me included) he's gonna be surprised when he sees that we aren't the italian bubbly and cheerful stereotype, but kinda cold and grumpy.

Another thing for the northeners: he's gonna bitch abt the time we usually have lunch and dinner. Lunch at 12/13 and dinner at 19/20???? You must be joking (Yes, the average northener eats early, obviously it depends on the family. In my experience and the ones of my friends these are the usual eating times)

If you still go to school and (like me) go to school also on Saturday: he's shocked. That's it. Just shocked that you have only one day to rest. But this helps to remind him that taking breaks it's important, so you two hopefully spend some time relaxing together, taking a break from school and being spoderman/spiderwoman.

Again, for people who go to school: he listens to your meltdowns. Even if he's from the future and from another country he understands that the school system stopped evolution in the mid 20th century and it fucking sucks.

If you struggle with subjects like chemistry or science he's more than glad to help you

If you go to a liceo he kinda sees himself in you and your experience, so with lots of subject to study and standars super high

If you have Spanish as a second foreign language at school he's definitely going to help you. YOU HEARD ME? YOU AIN'T GOING ANYWHERE UNTILL YOU LEARNED PERFECTLY TODOS LOS IRREGULARES DEL SUBJUNTIVO!!!!! (I really need his help)

If you go to a professional/technical (idk how to translate themmmm) institute with subjects in the field of engineering and computers he's gonna help you if you need help, giving you some tips and extra informations so that you can be the best of your class.

Let's say that you live in Milan: there aren't a lot of skyscrapers, but there are still some buildings on which you can swing decently. Same thing goes for most of the big cities

Now let's say that you live in a small town, in the middle of the countryside, where the tallest building is the bell tower of the church: "how the fuck do you swing and jump and- do litterally all the spiderthings?" And you just show him that you attach you webs on the top of the nearest strong tree or house. He's just like:

Hhhhhh WHAT SHOULD I ADDDD

IDFKKKKK

Bye

Edit: ok got 3 more hcs

The idea of always having a sweet breakfast was kinda weird to him, and didn't really got used to it really fast. But with some time he found the combinations that he preferred: espresso and gocciole

He's team gocciole

He's also team lemon estathé

[lipslover]

trailer trash - rafebarry

summary: jj is required to follow his father to his dealer, barrys, trailer. he is astonished, nevertheless, to see a certain familiar face when he arrives.

warnings: swearing, drugs, drug talk, wee little bit of violence

additional notes: hopefully this is decent enough for yinz likings !!! i havent wrote anything in months, though i used to be a wattpad writer.. this is slightly slightly inspired by a short prompt wrote by hartigays !! wrote in all lowercase. enjoy pookiess !!!!!!

___________

jj watched out the window at the passing cars as a gentle autumn breeze blew onto his face. everyone else appeared to be extremely wealthy in comparison to luke's raggedy old pickup.

he had been grounded by his dad for "back talking," which means he has been under his fathers supervision, constantly, for the past week. this also means he is forced to go anywhere with luke at any point in the day. so that is how he came to be driven into the decaying trailer park where his father's dealer lives.

they pulled into the familiar lot of barrys so called home, a location theyve visited four times within the past week. there were numerous vehicles, including a few motorcycles, parked in the yard; however, one in particular stood out to jj. a bright red bike. he knew it looked familiar but had no idea where it had came from, as of none of the pouges in the area had such clean looking things in general.

he unbuckled carefully, as one wrong move could cause the entire truck to crumble beneath them, and stepped out walking behind luke.

as soon as they got near the already opened door, yelling could be heard. not particularly angry yelling, just someone being slightly pissed off, and that someone was no one other than barry.

“i aint givin’ you no fuckin acid man, ya already loopy outta yo fuckin mind” barry yelled, sounding more concerned than angry.

they walked inside, luke making himself to the fridge that he very much was not supposed to be in. jj just stood in front of the door uncomfortably, then he heard footsteps coming from the hallway. “so youll sell it to everyone here but me” yelled. wait was that, but before jj could get his thought out barry came storming into the main room with a rafe cameron following him, almost too close behind. rafe..

before any longer thoughts could be made from jj, barry was going at luke for drinking his beer out of his fridge. while the taller boy just stood behind, mouth opened slightly as if he was about to blurt out something absurd. but he didnt. he just stood there, hands in his khakis pockets, watching barry with amusement as he yelled.

barry seemed to calm down a bit, and turned to rafe. “d’ya need anything country club” he said softer with a smirk. rafe blushed slightly at the nickname, at the smirk, at barry. jj watched intensely, creepily almost, but how could he not. whatever the fuck just happened was completely not normal.

“yeahh” rafe dragged out, “you know what, i could really use some acid.” and with that, the yelling started up again.

“uh hu, nope, no fuckin way bro” barry yelled pointing a finger, he walked back to his room, as an attempt to retrieve what he knew luke wanted. rafe followed directly behind, way too close for comfort. way too close in general.

jj looked over at his dad who was sipping on his barrys cold beer, not a care in the world. he wasnt even sure if his dad noticed the weird behavior coming from the two.

after a few minutes barry came back into the kitchen, with rafe following, holding a little baggie of coke. “gotta show me the cash first maybank” barry said raising his eyebrows at the slightest. though to his surprise luke actually held out some hundreds, some hundreds that could’ve been used to buy food, but jj wouldn’t argue. he just watched as they exchanged items. watched as rafe lingered behind barry, his hand placed delicately on barrys waist.

jj didnt even think rafe noticed him, and truth be told he didnt, not until he turned and saw the jj maybank staring down his hand that was placed where it definitely shouldnt have been. they locked eyes, anger flushing in rafes and confusion in jjs.

barry noticed this, the tension between the two, and waved for luke to be on his way. their eyes were still locked, still staring, both in utter disbelief. barry lifted his hand to rafes cheek, rubbing slightly, bringing him out of his little trance.

“you good rafe” he asked almost as a whisper. rafe nodded slightly, glancing back up at jj who was being pulled out the door by his father.

‘i think he knows’ were the last words jj heard come out of rafes mouth before being pushed into his fathers shitty truck.

[blkkizzat]

Woooh I've been a bit MIA for the most part lately but it's been for good reason...Kali I'm on the last chapter before proof.. my book is damn near DONE BABES! And unfortunately not a speck of smut in sight but there might be a love scene in the sequel. Unfortunately, my parents have to read this novel as it's hopefully going to be my debut and I 100% refuse to let them know what I find hot. They don't deserve that.

I'm also writing a Sample Writing piece so I can go back to school. So I'm giving myself more work.

I never got my fried cheese, but the craving went away with my time of the month, so I'm okily dokily.

I generally ONLY like mozz sticks and cheese curds from a greasy bar. Is it the best place to eat? NO. BUT if I have one more cheese curd served with a three house sauces and not ONE of them is marinara I'm going to freak. Worse is when they try to give you No sauce and then say, we don't serve marinara. Then why tf do you have cheese curds?

Anyway... onto my thoughts this evening.

Big celebrations with ya mans. I'm thinking

Gojo, has to go all out. He takes the day off. He showers you in gifts (nothing expensive just things he knows you like) take you out to an elaborate dinner to top before taking you home and making you forget your name. Like you aren't sure what happened or how you ended up on the kitchen counter, but Gojo's house keeper is not entertained when she finds you both naked on her previously clean counter

Geto is more low key and sophisticated a good dinner, some dancing. He let's you pick your favorite spot out and orders you the good dessert. You get home and yes he does pipe you down. Respectfully.

Nanami, he does not like going out. Something about him screams home body to me. He cooks you dinner. Candles, flowers, the whole 9 just at home. He still gets dressed nicely. Lays out a pretty dress so you feel sexy. His reward to you for your celebration is like 4 orgasms on his tongue. He doesn't ask for reciprocation, this night's about you..but you give it to him anyway.

Toji... you're getting dick. Metaphorically and physically. Like he's not buying you shit but he is dicking you down. Like can't walk the next day Dicking you down. You can't even complain. You're satisfied. Your toes barely move without twitching. He does, however, make you toaster waffles the next morning. With orange juice.

Choso...sweet baby that he is...plans something elaborate ..that does not happen. He planned to do the Nanami thing and cook for you and give you a nice relaxing day. But he failed to remember he could not cook. Nearly burnt the damn apartment down. Instead, he orders your favorite take out. Puts on your favorite movie and let's you put your cold ass feet just under his legs to keep them warm. You end up making love on the couch while he's praying you don't smell the burnt food he had to throw away...you do but it's okay cause he's cute.

One stress done and another ready to beat my ass- 🧠

🧠nonny! sorry ml ive been so tired and busy myself i couldnt get to your ask, i have a little back log i still need to get through 😭.

First congrats on your book! That's amazingggg! Smut isn't needed and yeah definitely not if your parents are going to read it 😭😭.

Oooh are you going to go back to school for writing? I love the commitment!

"Worse is when they try to give you No sauce and then say, we don't serve marinara. Then why tf do you have cheese curds?"

NO OKAY CAUSE REAL!!! Or if you can tell the marinara they are using is old/not fresh, urgh.

Also fhjdasfkjhagdfhjab lmfao i know gojo house cleaner would quit if she wasnt getting paid so well. i cant imagine the messes she be coming across. but totally agreed!

Oooh and Geto! I bet hes such a good dancer too, so smooth. I see him being good at salsa and that shit be so touchy/sensual y'all ripping each other clothes off by the time you get home.

Ah yes, Nanami home is his castle! I can also imagine that with lots of flower petals, candles and essential oil. you'd feel like you were somewhere else the way he'd transform your living room.

TOJI MY MANNNNNNN. LISTEN I WILL GLADY TAKE THE TOASTER WAFFLES AND OJ (THAT I BOUGHT AT THE GROCERY STORE) OVER ANYTHING ELSE!!! <333

"Puts on your favorite movie and let's you put your cold ass feet just under his legs to keep them warm."

SEE IM CRYING NOW CAUSE THATS MY BABY GIRL AND THAT IS A NECESSITYYYY!!!! I absolutely love that, esp cause my feet are always cold tbh. He's so cuteeee ahhhh i love him. This was super cute!

What about Sukuna though? I feel like he would need Uraume to remind him of the big event, then Uraume would fine out what you like, buy it and then sukuna will give it to you lmfaoooo

[krenenbaker]

For the ask thingy...the free space one

what would be ur dream date if u could send an entire day w ....jade >>:)

okay... this took me a little to think about because there are both so many options, because it's an ENTIRE DAY, aaaaaaaaand because my brain turned into mush (*´◡`*)

it does depend on the time of year slightly, since hikes (should that be part of the date) are generally nicer when the weather isn't blisteringly hot, brutally cold, or wet and slippery.

HOWEVER, I'm going to go for something a little different here.

were I to spend an entire day with Jade, I think that I'd most want to start with a simple stroll around campus. just spending a little time together, walking, holding hands, and talking about whatever may come up. things about our days and what we may have coming up, our interests, our thoughts, the things we may observe. resting indoors or outdoors, in quiet spaces. I'd love to have a discussion at some point during the day specifically about one of his interests, spending time learning about what he likes directly from him. seeing his passion and happiness as he talks about something he enjoys, and doing the opposite as well, sharing one of my interests with him in turn. that is a fair balance, after all ^v^

later - with permission, obviously - we'd head into town and have lunch at a local café. we could try either familiar foods and drinks, or something new and unfamiliar. (or, knowing Jade's seemingly bottomless pit of a stomach, he'd most likely want to get both possible options!) we could do some people-watching while in town, too, which - as I've said before - is something I'm sure he'd enjoy!

in the afternoon, perhaps it would be nice to watch a film. it would be fun, a lovely way to spend time together, and also a good way to learn a bit more about how he thinks (I like to think he'd be the sort to comment on films as he watches them). it's also a perfect time to cuddle a little, if that's something that feels comfortable and natural to us (Jade is most certainly a touchy person, as am I, so that is a very likely occurrence)

ideally, we'd then cook dinner together - nothing too complex, but something still tasty, fresh, and pleasant. I'd love to see his cooking style, and see what it's like being in the kitchen with him, too. we'd eat dinner (hopefully not interrupted by a voracious Grim...) and afterwards, I'd walk him back to Octavinelle before saying good night with a kiss, on the hand, cheek, or lips ^^

overall: it would be a day we'd spend side-by-side, talking, learning about each other, and just... being together. nothing too dramatic. just a simple, somewhat domestic, comfortable day.

that would be my dream date day with Jade ♡

[koiturine]

comfort | recovery.

'the beggar? those folks — they know exactly what they want.'

the storm makes it impossible to hear the knocks at the door. there's been intermittent storms for a while, and i knew a generator would be a good investment. it feels... strange that i'm the only person in town who thought to get one by the looks of it. but i've been holed up for days working on this book. it's not like i'm breathing down their necks seeing what they're doing.

while i can't hear a knock on my door, i did hear the one at my window "AH!!" i jump in my seat at the sight of the humanoid figure, until the light reflects in a way that lets me make out the disheveled man. tired, cold, wet, undoubtedly starving. i point to the door before walking over to open it for him.

"do you, um..." letting a stranger into my house during a dark and stormy night is a perfect setup to get murdered in the horror movie that my life branches off into sometimes. "oh, right. come in. but don't sit anywhere yet, i'll get you a towel." i notice the shackles around his wrists much better now that he's inside. yeah, this is... this is how i die. at least it's at the hands of a hot serial killer.

i quickly place a towel on a chair, gesturing for him to sit down and quickly muttering off some potential needs i can help with. "you need water? something to eat?"

"both would be nice, thanks." his voice is ice cold and shaky. he's probably more scared of me than i am of him.

"i hope you don't mind pizza rolls, i think that's all i have left..." i still scurry to the kitchen and stuff them in the toaster oven. a cup of sink water, and...

oh, right, the shackles. "mind if i...?" i lightly touch the metal before he quietly nods. maybe it'll take a screwdriver or something. i recognize the hole, but i'm wracking my brain trying to remember the tool i need. hopefully, the longer i stare at it the faster it comes to me.

"how did you end up out in the rain, anyways?" i realize that his hands start shaking when i ask. my jaw instinctively clenches. i asked the wrong question.

"you could call it... poor planning." didn't know where to go after killing this person, huh? i take in his presence more, realizing more the longer i stare. the tattered clothes, the unusually loose chains, the commodity code. the color washes out of my face as my heart quickly pivots from fear to pity. "just my luck that i ended up outside the second a storm hits."

"you must be new." i huff out a breath from my nostrils as i put up my finger to wait before going to grab my set of allen wrenches. "there's pretty much a storm every day. it'll stop for a bit, but one day out of fifty doesn't really matter all that much." i start testing each one on his shackles. i'm always so bad at figuring out the right size. "and actually, i think you're pretty lucky. i'm the only person in town who thought to actually get a generator." i manage to free his wrists as the toaster oven dings.

i can still feel his eyes on me as i move. the relative silence makes me a bit worried, and i try to reassure myself that i'm just being a huge chatterbox tonight. it's usually my first instinct when i wanna impress someone... but i don't have a reason to impress this man, do i?

you never know what connections in life will be the most useful later, but this... abandoned slave has no future. i don't think. i could cry at that realization when i finish plating his food. one roll popped open, so i spread the inside in a curve across the plate. garnish. presentation. i walk over to him, trying to keep a straight face as i put the plate on the coffee table in front of him.

he looks down at the plate and his shoulders start shuddering. i see a smile tug at his lips that makes my heart melt, and he laughs. it's such a cute laugh, even if it sounds like he hasn't had a real one in years. that's what makes it all the sweeter, really.

"gourmet." i try not to push the joke any further than that. he laughs even harder. the sound starts becoming ever so slightly more natural.

it's... ugh, it feels way too good to see him smile.

[katieodo]

Your Charming Alcoholic

When he died we weren't feeling the same thing. They were mourning the kindest friend, the most generous man they ever knew, their most charming alcoholic. I was mourning the monster, the harshest critic - the cruel father. No more painful visits. No more screaming. No more hot and cold.

"Hello, Gracie." …What? What's wrong with me? This sounds more real than in my memories. "You should've said goodbye… but you never were one to face difficulty. Always ignoring my messages." "You're not real. You're not here. This isn't actually happening, I'm just going cra--" "Of course you'd say that. Trust you to ignore the facts. Look at me." "I can't, I--" "LOOK AT ME." I look up swift and wide into those grey eyes and he stands there, a silhouette in the rickety arched window, framed by the rancid green of the evening sky. He's wearing that irritated face he always pulled when I said something stupid or spoke for too long. Are you trying to annoy me? He'd say through his perfect gritted teeth. I grab my hand to stop the shiver, close my eyes, and turn around. "Goodbye, Dad." I speak in a crumpled whisper. I stumble through the rotting wooden maze of corridors, and down the broken stairs to my bedroom. He never came in here when he was alive, hopefully that means he can't dead either.

I have a date over. We're in my rickety room on the bed, watching Everything, Everywhere on my dad's old laptop. It's been buffering every few minutes as the storm periodically dumps its weight on the roof. The video cuts again and I get up to go to the toilet. I stop to unplug my phone from the wall and my date creeps up behind me, grabs my hips. "Haha babe, I need to piss let me go." "Sorry, you're just so… naked right now…" He moves his hands further. "You like that?" "Mmm yes…" "Yes, what?" Silence, and then anger. He says it again. "Yes, what?" "Yes… d-daddy-" "Good girl." Ew. I don’t like this but it's what he wants. If Dad appeared now I don't think I could cope with the shame. Couldn’t look him in the eye. His face flashes before me. "Disgusting," it whispers as if at my ear. It's okay, just pretend you're not here, I tell myself. And I do. I focus on the tilted picket fence outside or the peeling corners of the wallpaper until he thanks me for a good time, and stomps down the stairs. I hear the door slam and I lie on my bed staring into the dark. I don't remember falling asleep. I'm eating some beautiful food my best friend has made for us all: gnocci with garlic and spinach. We're gathered around the kitchen table, a thick old oak rectangle with rusted metal legs, and Medusa's making jokes. I'm sitting opposite her. "How come you didn't make it to mine last night, Gracie? You okay?" "Oh I, um, I had a lecture." She smiles proudly, "Oh you finally went in??" "…well, no." Dad steps out from behind her, scares me. He speaks in his usual agitated tone. "She knows you're lying. They all do. They're finally starting to see how inconsiderate you are. You were never planning on showing up for your friends." I did want to go, I was going to go to the lecture but then I just couldn't get out of bed-- "You were laying on your own doing nothing, you lazy imbecile. You're just like you used to be, remember? You'd deliberately sleep through your alarms and blow off school just to force me to speak to those idiots on the phone. Punishing me for all I gave to you. They called me every day and every day you refused to change your behaviour." That wasn't in my control. You don't know anything about me, you're dead. I was burnt out, I couldn't help it. I couldn't help it. I couldn't help it. I couldn't help it. I COULDN'T HELP IT. I'm snapped out of my panic as I refocus my eyes on Medusa. She's staring at me. Dad is gone. "What? Gracie, are you okay? What couldn't you help? What's going on… Have you taken something?" I can feel the hot streams on my cheeks. I start shaking my head, "no, no, no, no, no, no, no…"

Medusa takes me up to bed with a cup of peppermint tea, puts on my favourite podcast and sits down next to me. Dad is standing in the corner across the room looking at me with a face I haven't seen before. Absolute contempt. I try not to look at him. "You know, as long as I'm around, there'll always be someone who's proud of you." The tears come back, but this time I'm not panicked, I'm happy. And as I look up, finally, my phantom disappears.

[mellow-worlds]

I haven't eaten in 12 hours. Before that I didn't eat in 62 hours. Before that I didn't eat in 42 hours. I won't eat for another 18 hours.

It's exciting, thinking about how little I've eaten. And it's exciting seeing the number on the scale drop. I really, really enjoy that. But it's just waterweight so I'll have to keep going.

I've eaten a little more than 600 kcals this morning. Yeah, I started logging calories again and I'm SO glad I did. I felt really weird when eating. I felt jittery. It makes me feel like I could've kept on going longer. I want to never eat again but this is not sustainable. I like not even feeling hungry. Which I am rn but yk, I felt weirdly not hungry during the last fast.

I'm so excited!

Yesterday evening when laying in bed L said that my body is so cold because I don't consume enough calories to keep myself warm. He's said that maybe 2 times before. He also said that he thinks I have a really great body and that he never thought I was too fat and that I could eat however much I wanted without even worrying, well, up to a certain point because then I'd probably die, he said. He was really sweet! And in the kitchen this morning he said that other girls are probably jealous, well, they'd be if they knew what great hips I have. It's so sweet of him! And I feel bad for like idk feeling this way, still, wanting to be impossibly skinny. And idk what is prompting me to be like that. GEnerally my life is good. I'm doing ok at uni and I am meeting my friends a lot and I'm seeing L and I love him and I think he loves me. Somehow, whenever I'm alone, I feel very sad. I feel very low and I feel tired, and I don't ever really know what to do because I don't feel like doing anything.

I love thinking about how sweet L is. It feels like I never know what to do with myself when I'm not with L.

I'm really cold and I'm wearing 3 upper layers and the heater is on. Anyway, I should go exervise and then shower. I will. Hopefully. Really I just want to lay in bed.

I drew a little today. It keeps me from thinking about food and like I said, I was kinda hungry today. Still am. Am freezing. I can't wait for being warm in summer. I like being cold though, it makes me think about the extra calories I'm burning. One can die from staying in 30°C water for too long. I don't even want to die rn, I don't think. Thinking about L keeps me from wanting to die.

I tihnk we're in a really good place in our relationship. Yesterday the s*x was really good. He actually choked me while doing it. Later we switched roles. I still feel weird afterwards. But it's fine! He really seems to like it. And I really like it when he's aggressive with me.

Oh btw I wore the greatest outfit yesterday to the jazzclub. LOVED IT. Anyway byeee I'll workout now

[skylarsblue]

You should've seen a request from my goofy ass coming papa blue

OKAY SO HEAR ME OUT

Some domestic Sinclair brothers fluff with a Hispanic female reader? Them white babies need flavor, and yall know Bo cant cook and that Lester be eating worms and canned beans.

No but seriously, how cute is it to imagine a lil Hispanic housewife reader slapping Lester's hand with a spatula while cooking,or yelling at Bo in spanish ((hes into it but we dont comment)) and her all around babying Vincent, calling him gifted and just loving them the way they deserved as kids. Just feisty, small little momma cleaning around the house, screaming flamenco at the top of her lungs, teaching Bo and lester the Merengue,, it's so cute-

I am always down for sassy housewives/mama Y/N's. They speak to my soul. I may be whiter than the first European settlers if they were also vampires who liked chicken-fried-okra, but I have some Hispanic friends! So hopefully that'll help me here. Also, the coMMENT ABOUT THE FLAVOR PLEASE-

Bo Sinclair

I’m gonna be completely honest...he’s gonna make cringy comments. At least in the beginning. Oddly enough, he means it innocently, but you’ll need to explain to him why calling you “exotic” is in fact, not a compliment. He means well I swear! For once...

Bo’s in need of a feisty housewife, if any of the Sinclair’s need a chancla thrown at them, it’s him. That being said, he’s not super into being yelled at. So, if it’s your immediate reaction, that might cause some issues. However, when you start yelling in Spanish? Yeah he’s into it, whether it’s directed at him or someone else. He has absolutely no idea what you’re saying but it sounds pretty.

While he entrusts you with your “housewife duties”, he’s also gonna question everything. Mostly your cooking, even if he ends up enjoying it 99% of the time. But, he highly doubts Vix Vapor run as literally any effect on a chest cold at all. And when it does? He’s gonna grumble about the smug grin on your face.

On the topic of kids; Bo’s generally the kinda guy to deny wanting kids, but then secretly want them, at least at some point. He’s mostly just afraid he’ll end up like Victor. He doesn’t want to fuck up a kid as badly as he is. That, and he doesn’t want to seem soft. But, the more Bo thinks about it, the more he grows to like the idea. He might not actively come to you asking to make one, but you’re likely to see a spike in his breeding kink at some point in the relationship.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent absolutely adores the Spanish language. It’s one of the languages he considers a beautiful, almost poetic dialect. Most of the time, they utterly melt when you speak Spanish. Now, when you scream in Spanish, he’s taken aback. They’ve never see such fire! They might snicker to themselves if it’s directed at Bo, which it usually is.

Vincent will love most of your food, but, he can’t handle spice very well. They fear the moment you bring out any hot peppers in the kitchen. He’s a bit of a baby when spice is a thing.

Something they enjoy with you is the music. Assuming it’s not too loud or intense, they certainly enjoy listening to you sing in your mother tongue to the radio. Bo makes gagging noises when he sees Vincent gazing adoringly at you when you add a little dance while sweeping. If it’s late and you two are alone, he’ll gladly join in.

On the topic of wanting kids: Out of all three Sinclair brothers, Vincent is the most apprehensive. It’s just not something he’s ever thought about too hard. It’s not that they dislike kids, but they never bothered to consider it. When they do, there’s a million things that make him fear actually doing so. One, his face, he doesn’t want to scare children. Two, their lifestyles. Ambrose, town of dead wax people, is not necessarily the best place to raise children. And three, Vincent’s terrified of the idea that your babies will end up conjoined. Even if it was only a minor case (such as a slight fusion of the arm), he doesn’t have the skills his father had to separate them. That’s not to say he could never be convinced! It would just take a lot longer.

Lester Sinclair

Oh buddy boy what a match made in Heaven. Lester would work well with someone with a loud personality in most cases. He’s an energetic guy, someone to be loud with would work well. Man has no clue what words you’re saying in Spanish, but he’s willing to try and pick up some stuff if you’re willing to teach him. But he’s more an audible learner. I do think it’d be hilarious if you managed to teach him enough to where he can use it against Bo. Because it’ll drive the man up a wall.

Lester would adore your cooking more than anything else. (Excluding family, of course.) He enjoys cooking most of the time, but he rarely tries new things. He has his specialties. Fried chicken, cod fish, etc. But he loves food, especially food with a lot of spice. On top of this, you making food for him will make his heart sore. One of his love languages, both giving and receiving, it’s acts of service.

He’s probably gonna be confused by a lot of superstitions & remedies that you swear by. But, he’s never going to completely discount them. If you say herbal tea is gonna help his throat, he’ll try it. If you say Vics is gonna do-away with his chest cold? Slather him, he’s got it. Lester has no idea how that Mother Mary candle is gonna keep away negative energy but if you say so, get hundreds!

On the topic of kids: Lester’s the most likely to be the most ready for kids. He’s definitely thought of it the most, but not to the point where he’s made it a life goal. However, if you bring up having kids? Lester is gonna be over the moon. Now, he’ll be incredibly anxious over the idea, but it will be a thought he mulls over with a smile anyway. He’ll bring it up often after you do and basically impatiently insist that you get started right away, even if you said you wanted them eventually.

[peachy-panic]

Exhale

Part of Do No Harm. Takes place hours after this chapter (which had some strong reactions when I posted, so hopefully this settles the score a little lolol).

This is just the teeniest, tiniest little drabble that came as a direct result of @hold-him-down telling me I don’t give Jaime enough comfort. Here, take this. 

If you see typos, no you don’t. This is what the kids call a chaos post. 

WARNINGS: BBU/BBU-adjacent, food deprived whumpee, allusions to past noncon, fear of noncon that does not happen, general warnings of Mr. Torley being himself

Jaime is only half asleep when the door to his room nudges open. He knows it’s Mr. Torley before he turns over; if Kade had come to get him in the middle of the night, for a glass of water or a snack or a monster under the bed, he would have knocked first. 

His empty stomach clenches from more than hunger at the implications of what this means. This isn’t something Mr. Torley has done before. For the briefest moment, he considers pretending to be unconscious. Not that it would matter. Not if his Keeper has come for him in the middle of the night.

“Baby,” Mr. Torley whispers into the empty space. He’s drunk, it’s immediately apparent. “Hey. Wake up.”

Baby. The word reverberates through his skull, shaking him all the way awake. Baby is for weekends, when the boys are gone. Jaime isn’t supposed to be baby tonight. Still, he doesn’t allow himself to hesitate. He rolls over, looking up at his Keeper’s silhouette in the doorway. His shadowed form sways as he pushes himself up, the hunger and exhaustion crashing into him all over again, and he clutches onto the side of the cot to steady himself.

“Sir?” he asks quietly.

Mr. Torley stares down at him. It’s all the more unsettling when he can’t make out his expression in the dark. Then, to his surprise, his Keeper takes a step into the room and crouches next to the bed, knees audibly cracking. Jaime forces himself not to draw back from his proximity.

“Listen, kid.” Another name he reserves for the weekend. “I was a little tough on you tonight, okay? I can admit that. You earned your dinner. And it’s my job to provide for you while you’re under my roof.”

The smell of whiskey on his breath fills the small space between them.

“You know why I get upset, don’t you?” His hand raises to gently cup Jaime’s cheek, and he goes perfectly still under the touch. “Why I hold you to such high standards?”

“Yes, sir,” he says automatically. He doesn’t know if he actually knows the right answer, but he’s so dizzy and tired and it’s usually the safest thing to say, anyway.

He watches him thoughtfully again, thumb rubbing over his jaw. “You’re a good boy when you want to be,” he says. Jaime resents the warm glow in his chest that the praise provokes, but there is little else to cling to. “C‘mon,” he says suddenly, dropping his hand to push himself up to standing again. “Let’s get some food in your belly.”

Jaime has little other choice than to take his hand when he offers it, letting himself be pulled up from his cot and into the kitchen.

Mr. Torley, it seems, has ordered some kind of food delivery. There is a plastic bag wrapped around a paper one on the countertop with a receipt attached. This whole situation is disorienting and confusing, but the smell of warm spices floods Jaime’s senses immediately. Saliva floods his mouth. Distantly, he allows himself to pray this isn’t a joke at his expense.

“You like Thai food?” Mr. Torley asks, unpacking the bag, one plastic container at a time. Jaime watches uneasily, shifting his bare feet on the tile. The air in the kitchen is cold on his exposed arms and legs, but his central focus is on the unexpected promise of food.

“Yes, sir,” he says, remembering the salty-sweet noodles he shared with the boys a few weeks back when Mr. Torley left cash on the counter with instructions to order out. He reaches for the lip of the counter to steady himself.

“This is the best in town. Here.” He holds out a pair of chopsticks and a container—a full container of hot food, not scraps of cold leftovers—to Jaime. He takes it almost too quickly, afraid it might disappear into thin air. Mr. Torley chuckles. “Come on. Let’s eat in the bedroom.”

There it is. The other shoe. The saliva in his mouth sours, but the drop in his stomach numbs over quickly enough as he forces himself to follow. He can do this. As long as he gets something to eat, he will be fine with whatever he has to do for it.

Still, his feet stutter when he reaches the edge of the carpet, an involuntary hesitation, but Mr. Torley notices and tugs him forward. “Relax,” he says with a chuckle. “The boys are asleep.”

Jaime can only nod.

His Keeper gives him a knowing smile, tilting his head in a way Jaime can only categorize as condescending. “We’re only eating tonight. I promise.”

The value of Mr. Torley’s promises is well into the negatives, but Jaime follows anyway. He settles into his usual side of the bed, on top of the covers, crossing his legs under him. Mr. Torley does the same, except he relaxes back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. Loose with whiskey and totally at ease. He points a remote at the flatscreen on the wall, pouring bright light over them as it comes to life.

“Dig in.” He nods toward Jaime’s closed container, bringing a clump of his own noodles into his mouth. Jaime doesn’t hesitate to follow the command.

Mr. Torley settles on one of the sports channels Jaime is used to hearing in the background when he tries to fall asleep on the weekends. He lets the faint noise lull him into a sense of familiarity in the midst of this unusual night as he takes his first bite of food. Immediately, the first swallow of food—of good, solid, warm food—brings a renewed strength to his body, a clarity to his mind. He takes a third bite before he’s even finished chewing the second, careful not to spill any on Mr. Torley’s clean sheets.

“Good, huh?” His Keeper chuckles lightly again, tossing a glance his way. Jaime can’t even bring himself to feel embarrassed. He nods.

“Yes. Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome.”

He is about halfway through his container when his stomach starts to hurt, but it’s hard to make himself stop, or even slow down, when he doesn’t know the next time he will have a meal like this. The soft, warm bed under him is working with the food in his system, coaxing him back toward exhaustion. His eyes are starting to droop.

He must nod off under the soft drone of the television, because suddenly his head is snapping up and Mr. Torley’s hands are taking the half-full container of food out of his lap. There’s a sharp intake of breath, an instinctive urge to make a grab for the food, but he stops himself.

“Shh,” his Keeper says, covering the food and setting it on the nightstand. “You’re crashing. Go to sleep.”

Jaime blinks once, long and hard. “Mr. Torley, the boys--”

“I’ll wake you before I leave for work.” There is no room for argument in his tone. “Lie down.”

Jaime is not willing to risk turning this rare night sour. And he knew the night would end this way from the start. Wordlessly, he burrows beneath the covers, feeling his Keeper do the same, and lays his head on the pillow he isn’t supposed to see for the next two days. When the television goes black, Jaime lay still for several minutes, stomach full and heart pounding, waiting for the familiar weight of Mr. Torley’s hand to find him in the dark.

Then he hears the soft snores coming from the other side of the bed, and Jaime, for the first time all day, can exhale.

The king bed is a cloud beneath him, even softer when he gets to enjoy it for free, but he can only bask in the sensation for a few seconds more before he slips under.

***

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