#so this is just me trying to keep things neat and tidy

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alexia's Version) IX

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: You wake up after passing out

TW: discussions of eating disorder, mentions of self harm through dance

Waking up from being passed out isn't how it's portrayed in action movies.

There's no jerk reaction. There's not much clarity. There's absolutely no brilliant idea you have immediately when you awake.

It's slow and kind of painful, one side of your face throbbing with pain from where it's pressed onto the hard wooden flooring of the practice room.

You come back into consciousness confused.

You were practicing before you fell, practicing until your feet ached and your head spun and until you can feel your toe pads grow wet with your own blood.

Spin.

Spin.

Spin.

Jump.

Spin.

Spin.

Spin.

Again. Again. Again.

Over and over again.

No rest. No breaks. Not a moment of peace for yourself as you practiced.

You didn't deserve it. Not yet anyway. You were just a members of the Corps. You weren't a soloist. You weren't a principal.

They could rest because they've already made it. They're at the very top. They're the greatest they've ever been.

You're not that. Not yet anyway and those that aren't the best have to keep practicing so that's what you do.

You practice again and again until you're bleeding and bruised and-

And you're on the floor with a throbbing face, utterly confused.

You haven't fallen. You've never fallen. You can't have fallen.

You haven't though.

You passed out, midway through your practice and now, as you open your eyes and blink, there's someone with a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey," It's the woman that works at receptionist," Don't try and get up, sweetheart. I've called your mother. She's on the way."

She's speaking to you. You can definitely hear her but it sounds like she's miles away. Miles away and deep under water. Or maybe you're the one that's under the water.

"My...What?"

The woman smiles at you, slightly strained as she drinks in your prone figure. "Your mother. She's on her way here now."

"I..." Your befuddlement must be written on your face as you try to make sense of what she's just told you because she gives you a kind smile and hands you a sports drink.

It's one of your favourites from the vending machine and you don't want to think about how many you've drank instead of actually eating.

Your stomach is completely empty, feeling more like a trench in the deepest pit of the sea than anything else.

It's a feeling you're familiar with. One that you can grasp onto because of that familiarity as you try to claw yourself out of the confusion that's haunted you since opening your eyes.

"I-"

"Have a sip," The receptionist tells you," That's it. Small sips. Take it slow."

The bottle is still half full by the time the door swings open again.

Alexia looks manic, eyes wide and hair not at all neat and tidy like it usually is.

"Thank you for coming," The receptionist says, stepping away from you finally to approach your mother," She's had an electrolyte drink but that's about it. I'd give it another ten minutes or so and then try to get her in the car." She glances briefly at you before lowering her voice just so Alexia can hear. "I know it's not my place but perhaps you want to talk to her about going for a session with a member of the support staff? They specialise in eating disorders."

Alexia nods grimly. She doesn't particularly like being told that, that this older woman can tell so clearly you're suffering from an eating disorder while she, herself, hadn't noticed for weeks. But, still, Alexia nods and agrees.

"Hey," She says softly, helping you to prop yourself up against the mirror, staring at the blank wall ahead of you both," How are you feeling?"

"My face hurts," Is the only thing you offer up.

"Let me look, bambi."

Gently, Alexia takes your face in her hands. She checks you over softly, turning your head around in her grip so she could get a good look.

"Just as beautiful as always," She teases, running a soft finger down the bridge of your nose like she always did when you were little.

"Mami," You complain," That's not what I meant."

"You're not bruised just yet," Alexia tells you," But we'll put some ice on it when we get home. And you don't seem concussed. Can you tell me what day it is?"

Your lips quirk up, just briefly. "Would it be too soon to say that I don't remember?"

"Yes. Unless you really can't remember?"

"I remember," You say," Today is the day Jaume wanted to stay late at practice and you didn't let him."

Alexia hums. "That's right. So, you're not concussed. Just ice when we get home and a good, hearty meal."

The soft, quiet atmosphere is shattered in an instant - shattered into millions of tiny little pieces and you tense from your position under Alexia's arm.

"I'm not hungry."

"Really? Because you just passed out."

"Heat," Is the excuse you come up with, mind spiralling with attempts to push this conversation away," It's hot in here. Especially when I'm dancing."

Alexia doesn't look convinced though. She's always been able to see through you, always been able to needle and wheedle her way into finding out things you really didn't want her to.

"I'm sure," She says," But I'm also sure the lack of food didn't help either."

"Mami." You voice is firm as you speak," Drop it."

"No." Alexia's voice is just as firm as yours as she keeps you under her arm, pulling you even closer until your cheek rests on her shoulder. "Sometimes, we need to have hard conversations that we don't want to have."

"We really don't."

"We do." Alexia's voice is still firm. Firm and tense. "We can have it at home or we can have it here. It doesn't matter to me where we have it but we're having it tonight."

"Mami-"

"No," Alexia cuts across you before her tone softens again," I love you, y/n. I love you so much but you're hurting. You're hurting in a way that I can't understand but I can help, alright? I want to help you. You have to let me. We don't have to talk now but we do have to talk."

"I...I know, Mami," You say, trying to swallow down the tears building in your eyes," Mami...I know."

A soft kiss is pressed onto your head.

"We'll talk when we get home," Alexia promises you," And we are going to be grabbing a milkshake and nuggets on the way back. No arguments."

"I wasn't going to...Can we get mozzarella sticks too?"

That shocks a laugh out of her. "Of course, bambi. Extra mozzarella sticks."

[hoe4hockey]

NSFW A-Z Quinn Hughes

Warnings - smut and mentions of smut. DNI if you are a minor.

Is it even a hockey themed blog if you aren’t posting Quinn Hughes content? 👀

A - Aftercare

Very important to him. Wants to make sure you are well taken care of and well looked after. If anything can be a bit too intense at times. “Quinn someone who just fucked me so hard and I’m pretty sure bruised my cervix can’t then turn around and hand feed me and wipe sweat from my forehead.”

B - Body Part (Their/Yours)

Loves his hands, loves how strong they are and how long his fingers are. Like that he catches you watching him flex his fingers and his veins running along his hands makes you almost drool.

Loves your smile, doesn’t always come off as a fun loving guy but anytime you smile whether it be because of him or literally anything else he eats it up.

C - Cum

Comes hard and lots. Doesn’t care where it ends up as long as he can see it dripping from you or out of you.

“That’s it baby, stick your tongue out and show me how good I taste.”

D - Dirty Secret

Hasn’t ever tried it and wouldn’t know how to ask but wants to try anal. So bad. Like he dreams about it. You walking around the lake house in a skimpy little bikini doesn’t help the situation at all.

E - Experience

Has had a few partners but when you first started dating everything was still a bit clunky as he stumbled around and learned every little thing you like, what made you tick. Now he can make you come from flicking and tweaking your nipples alone. You fear Quinn Hughes may have ruined you for anyone else.

F - Favourite Position

Loves missionary. Loves looking into your eyes and swallowing your moans with kisses while he feels you fall apart around him. Also like to have access to your neck to wrap his long fingers around it.

G - Goofy

Quinn thinks there is a time and place for goofiness and the bedroom isn’t one of them. He can make you giggle and laugh after he’s ruined you.

H - Hair

Dark thick hair that he keeps neat and tidy, connects to a snail trail that when he stretches and his shirt lifts it drives you insane.

I - Intimacy

Very very big on intimacy, in any sense. Loves being close to you and knowing that you are his and his alone.

J - Jerk off

Might do it once or twice a week. Doesn’t really have the need if you aren’t there. His teammates have joked after he drilled into them at practice that maybe he needs to blow off some steam.

“The only thing I’ll be wrapping my hand around is my girls neck and I think that will be exactly what I need.” He says to Brock, leaving him standing in shock in the hallway. He couldn’t look you or Quinn in the eye for a few weeks.

K - Kink

Choking - big fan of choking. He likes his hands knows you like his hands and knows you like them too. Got drunk one night and you wrote necklace between his thumb and pointer finger then placed his hand around your neck. He legitimately almost came in his pants.

L - Location(Favourite places to do it)

Strictly a bed guy, likes having you spread out before him so he can do whatever he wants to you.

M - Motivation (What turns them on/gets them going)

You being a brat. It spins his head and flips a switch inside him.

N - No(Draw a line In the sand)

Will not have sex with you anymore if his brothers are around. Only because they either have some sick intuition and have walked in on you guys in some not so pg13 positions.

O - Oral

Giver, could spend hours buried between your thighs. Wants to feel your thighs squeeze his head and watch them quiver as he tastes you on his tongue over and over again.

P - Pace

Likes to take his time and savour every moment. Would never go fast and want it to be over quickly unless absolutely necessary.

Q - Quickie

The only time they are required are during the off season when you and him offer to go and pick up dinner so you can have a little fun in the car before you get home. Yet somehow Jack still texted midway through and requested you guys pick up some extra stuff.

R - Risk

Quinn is very calculated and thinks about things heavily before he does them, in life, in hockey and also with sex. Doesn’t love the idea risk at all. In any sense, especially when it comes to you.

S- Stamina

Has stamina thanks to working out and training but he really just is a sleepy guy at his core. Loves doing what needs to be done then watching a movie and cuddling into you afterwards.

T - Toys

You have them but you only use them together. He caught you once when you didn’t hear him come through the door and the “punishment” that followed was almost worth doing it all over again.

U - Unfair(How much they like to tease)

Loves it, will tease you any chance he gets. Even in public he is so good at it and sneaky about it the only person who knows are you and him.

Hands in you underwear at a team dinner, check.

Laying on the couch watching movies with his family during the summer and his hands are cupping your breast under your shirt, check.

V- Volume (how loud they are or/what noise they make)

Moans and groans into your ear or your neck, the action sending vibrations all over your body.

W - Wildcard (random head cannon)

Has terrible nightmares, wakes up sweaty and breathing heavily gripping his chest. Looks over and see’s you and suddenly everything feels better again. Will hold you close and almost inhale you while he drifts back to sleep.

X - X-ray

Above average in length. Used to be insecure about it but has definitely learned to use it.

Y - Yearning(how high is there sex drive)

Doesn’t think he has a particularly high sex drive until he isn’t with you then it feels like he could quite literally stretch his skin off. Makes it even worse when he comes home from a roadie and then you can’t walk the next day.

Z - ZZZ(how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Has trouble sleeping in general. Does enjoy staying up and watching you cuddle into him, when he eventually does drift off has an arm firmly wrapped around you.

[anbaisai]

Eeeh, I didn’t know today was also NRC Founding Day! What a coincidence. It must be fate or something!

Happy birthday to Mayu! 🎉🎉It just so happens to fall on the same day as Twst JP's anniversary, so let's have a big celebration today! ✨ (Voice lines under the cut!)

Credit to @/twstinginthewind for the blank Ramshackle card edit!

When Summoned: I didn’t think I’d get to celebrate my birthday in another world. I’m grateful that I’ve found friends in Twisted Wonderland to share this with.

Home: Wah, my hair’s sticking up everywhere!

Swap Looks: Time to get ready for the day.

Home Transition 1: Gotta make my bed before I go! Yup, everything’s neat and tidy.

Home Transition 2: I’m always so hungry first thing when I wake up. Alright, let’s see if there’s any leftovers from last night I can munch on!

Home Transition 3: I look like I have a sprout on my head? Well, we’ve gotta go out there and make sure it gets its sunshine then!

Home Transition - Login: I’m not expecting any gifts, but it would be nice to get some practical things like cleaning supplies. It’s hard keeping Ramshackle spic and span on the headmaster’s meager allowance…

Groovification: [LOCKED]

Home Transition - Groovy: [LOCKED]

Home Tap 1: Jamil-senpai wished me happy birthday and handed me a homemade bento. He really is just like a diligent housewife…

Home Tap 2: The Ramshackle Ghosts surprised me this morning. They woke me up by singing happy birthday. It was really thoughtful of them, so I’ll cherish this memory ‘til I’m a ghost, too!

Home Tap 3: I don’t do anything special to my hair or makeup. I just kinda do what feels natural! Although everyone here seems to know a lot about makeup, maybe I should try asking for tips some time...

Home Tap 4: Ace can’t be nice to me even on my birthday! He just gave me a noogie and said he’d bump me a few times, one for each year. Can you believe him?

Home Tap 5: I really didn't expect to be able to celebrate my birthday with so many people around this year. Nothing beats getting to share all this food with my friends- h-hey Grimmy! That's my share!

Home Tap - Groovy: [LOCKED]

[papervenom]

cedric diggory and all the ways he quietly loves you... (a habits list, and probably not the last one i’ll make)

hi! omg this is my first headcanon (blurb?? one-shot??) whatever it is I've had so much fun writing it!!! it’s been a busy few days and I promise that I’m still working on the next chapter but i wanted to get this out because it made me so soft 🥹 thank you so much to the sweet soul who requested this, it genuinely filled my heart up putting it together. here are some of the little things cedric diggory does when he’s in love with you. habits, quirks, tiny rituals. the kind of stuff that piles up over time and makes you realize just how much someone sees you. feel free to imagine them as canon in the insatiable universe (because honestly, they are)

★ he always waits outside your classes — and outside the entrance of your common room in the mornings!! even if you’re running late, even if he’s drenched from practice. he’ll lean against the wall with his arms crossed, eyes flicking to the door every few seconds, and the moment you appear? he lights up like you’re the only person who exists.

☆ he compliments you so genuinely it makes your chest ache — not just your looks, though he tells you you’re beautiful constantly, like he’s never gotten over the sight of you. one afternoon, you’re mid-ramble about something completely ridiculous (a dream you had, a weird bug you saw, whatever) and he’s just staring, all soft-eyed and smitten. then, without even thinking, he says, “i swear, i could listen to you forever. doesn’t even matter what you’re on about. your voice is my favorite sound.” it’s so simple, so achingly sincere, you forget how to breathe for a second.

★ he kisses your forehead twice — always twice. even if he’s in a rush, even if your friends are around and it’ll definitely earn you a round of teasing. one kiss for hello, one just because. it’s instinct at this point, something he does without thinking. soft and automatic, like he’s pressing a little promise into your skin. two smooches, always.

☆ he tidies up for you when you’re not looking — he doesn’t say anything, just stacks the piles books you left out in the library, folds your laundry into neat little piles, quills tucked back into their case. he never mentions it. just blushes when you catch him in the act. “you always do it for me,” he mumbles, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

★ he keeps little pieces of you tucked away like they’re lucky charms — a hair tie, a scribbled note, your lip balm, the lighter you left in his pocket. once, it was a folded napkin with your lipstick mark on it. you don’t even know half the things he’s saved. he just likes having bits of you close, like tiny proofs that you’re real and his.

☆ he whispers that he loves you when he’s half asleep — you’re beside him reading, trying not to wake him, but his hand finds your waist and his eyes flutter open, heavy with sleep. “i love you,” he murmurs, voice low and thick with drowsiness, before pressing a slow, sleepy kiss to your shoulder. then he’s out again, like he just needed to say it, like it couldn’t wait.

★ he’s quietly obsessed with touching you — not in a flashy or obnoxious way, just enough that everyone knows you’re his. sometimes, when he sees you after a long day, or just when he’s overwhelmed with how much he’s missed you, he lifts you up in a tight hug the same way he did the first time he saw you at the yule ball, like the rest of the world falls away and it’s just you. he wraps his arms around you so tight it knocks the breath from your lungs, sways you a little like he can’t believe you’re real. in the hallways, he threads his fingers through yours like it’s second nature. under tables, it’s his hand on your thigh, thumb tracing slow circles it’s never excessive. never overdone. it’s just cedric — quietly, constantly marking the fact that you’re his favorite person in any room.

☆ he talks about you like you’re already his family — he’ll say “we” when making plans. tells his mum about your favorite meals so she can make them whenever you visit. he’s already talking about bringing you to christmas next year. and when he’s home visiting, his parents hear about you constantly. stories about what you did that made him laugh, how you did on your last assignment, just proudly gushing about you. back at school, you slip into most conversations with his friends even when he doesn’t realize it. “(Y/N) said that yesterday,” he’ll murmur, or “she actually read that book, said it was brilliant.” he thinks he’s being casual, but he’s so transparent. the boys tease him constantly, but he just grins and shrugs because he can’t help it. you’re always on his mind. always the first thing he wants to talk about. it’s like loving you changed his whole vocabulary.

★ he pays attention to everything — how you take your tea, the way you hum when you’re deep in thought, how you always tap your quill twice before writing. he catalogs you like he’s afraid of forgetting all the little things, the soft details, the throwaway comments. he picks things up for you without you asking. if you mention needing more ink, he’s already got your favorite shade tucked into his bag. if you say you liked the apple tarts at breakfast, he starts sneaking one into his pocket every morning. he reads whatever you’re reading, too. your favorite books, old essays, reading assignments. he reads it all just so he can talk to you about them. it’s not performative. it’s not a show. he’s just genuinely curious. about you, your thoughts, your world. he wants to know everything you know.

☆ he’s always calling you sweet nicknames — darling, dove, love, baby, sweetheart, flower, angel. he cycles through them like he’s trying to find the one that suits you best. once, you teased him for it and he just shrugged, grinning. “you’re too many lovely things to choose just one.”

★ he seeks you out at parties — if you’re not arriving together, you can bet he’s scanning the room the second he walks in. it doesn’t matter who he’s talking to, or what kind of crowd he’s in the middle of. the moment he spots you, he’s weaving through the noise like nothing else matters. “there you are,” he always says, smiling like the night couldn’t properly begin until he found you. sometimes he’ll kiss your cheek without thinking, or slip his hand into yours so casually it makes your heart skip a beat. it’s like his whole body sighs in relief just from being near you again.

☆ he stares when he thinks you’re not looking — you’ve caught him across the room, in the mirror, from your periphery, just watching you with this enamored look in his eyes. and then you both just… laugh. quiet, giddy little giggles like neither of you can help it. it’s your thing now, that shared glance that says we’ve done this before. because you have. that first night at the feast, evenings at the library when you were strangers across the room, something magnetic pulling your eyes back to each other again and again. like you already knew. like you were remembering, not meeting.

★ he listens so intently it makes you nervous — like he’s absorbing every word, every shift in your tone, every pause you take to catch your breath. his grey eyes soften when you speak, stormy but warm, like they’re made to reflect you. when you tell stories, he watches your mouth more than he should, totally entranced, smiling a little when you get excited and trip over your words. when you cry, he doesn’t rush to fix it. he just holds your face in his hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks, and listens. not because he’s waiting to respond, because he wants to understand. because whatever hurts you, he wants to carry some of it too.

☆ he mouths “i love you” when he’s too far to say it — from the field during a match, where his hair’s a mess and his cheeks are flushed and he finds you in the crowd like it’s second nature. across the great hall, when he’s seated too far to reach you but can’t stop looking anyway. through the library shelves, when you catch each other in passing and he just stops, smiles, and mouths it, soft and sure, like it’s a secret just for you. it’s quiet. subtle. not meant for anyone else. but he says it like a promise, every single time. and you always say it back, even if it’s just in your smile.

★ he tucks your hair behind your ear when you're nervous — gently, like he's grounding you with the smallest touch. he knows you get anxious sometimes, knows the signs without needing to be told: the way your fingers fidget, your breathing shifts, how you stare a little too hard at nothing. so he leans in close and murmurs, “you’re okay. you’ve got this. i’ve got you.” his voice is soft, steady, certain. like a lifeline. even if you don’t believe it yet, he always does. and he’ll keep saying it until you do.

☆ he still gets flustered when you call him handsome — every single time. you’ll say it offhandedly, in the hallway, at breakfast, when he’s stretching before a match, and without fail, he ducks his head with a shy little smile, ears going pink. “you’re just saying that,” he’ll mumble, but he can’t quite stop the way his mouth curves or how he reaches for your hand after. sometimes he tries to play it cool, but he always ends up grinning like you’ve made his whole day. and the truth is, you have.

★ he gets visibly sulky when you’re upset — he wears your emotions like weather. if someone’s rude to you, if your insecurities start creeping in, if you just look a little too quiet for too long… he notices. he goes broody and still, tight-jawed, barely blinking as he mutters, “who do I have to kill?” and even if you laugh, he means it just enough to make your heart flutter and your anger soften. later, when things calm down, he pulls you in without a word, tucks you against him like he can shield you from the world. “you shouldn’t ever have to feel like this,” he murmurs into your hair. and you believe him, because somehow, with him, it feels true.

☆ he touches you absentmindedly when he’s studying — parchment spread out, ink smudged on his fingers, brow furrowed in focus. but even then, his body finds yours. his thumb draws slow circles on your thigh. your pinkies are hooked beneath the table like a quiet promise. his foot nudges yours every so often, like he’s checking to make sure you haven’t drifted too far. he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it half the time, but you do. and it always makes your chest feel full. like even when he’s buried in notes and diagrams, you’re still the grounding point. always his center of gravity.

♱ 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ♱

thank you so much for signing up! if you’d like to be added or removed, feel free to shoot me a message or visit the taglist form 💌

@yuveyoo, @milkpeanuts476, @iwannabeapinkaesthetic, @eviaroy, @josephineable, @verymuchinlovewithyou

i have so many more where these came from… if you’d like a part two like + repost pls!! 💌

[girlietips]

How I Fight My Messy Girl Nature🧼🧹🧺

All my life I’ve had to learn to be organized. While I’m not dirty I tend to just set things down and create piles all over my room. I typically have a good idea where everything is until the mess becomes overwhelming and I begin losing things. So I’ve had to really put in work to keep my space neat to prevent my environment from causing me anxiety. Here is all my tips I use on the daily.

Daily 5 things.

Everyday I try and put away five things that were misplaced.

I even put it in my habit tracker so I always remember.

While this doesn’t make my room spotless when I keep up with it consistently my room is way cleaner.

It also helps build the habit of cleaning as you go. Once I started doing this habit my tendency to leave clothes on the floor and shoes everywhere decreased significantly.

2 Weekly 15 minute clean

I choose to do them on Fridays and Sundays as a way of wrapping up a week and then starting fresh.

I set a timer and then clean as fast as possible.

While 15 doesn’t sound like a lot it leaves my room pretty clean and usually I build up enough momentum to finish the clean even after the timer goes off.

Fighting the piles

How I fight my tendency to making piles is with baskets and easy organization .

I never will put my makeup away properly in the morning in a really organized container so instead I have a bin for makeup and a bin for brushes. I am perfectly fine digging through (I don’t have that many products) and it looks cleaner than me just leaving it all over my vanity.

I also have a bin for my papers/mail that I just make sure to go through every now and again.

Shoes.

Shoes are probably my worst habit because I tend to just kick them off and go.

So I gave myself a wrack but I also give myself 3 pairs of shoes that can be off the wrack.

Those are my daily tennis shoes, my house slippers, and my shower shoes. I use these everyday and putting them on the wrack will never happen consistently so I don’t fit it and instead I just gave myself an area to kick the off.

Not the cleanest but at least it’s in one area. And three pairs of shoes on the floor is a lot less than 10.

Laundry

Laundry is also very hard for me because it just takes so long and anything that takes up a lot of my time annoys me.

So whenever I do laundry I make myself a to-do list and try and complete it before laundry gets done.

Sometimes it’s homework, sometimes it’s cleaning.

If I am on a break or just a little more burnt out then usual I’ll take the time and play the sims because that also takes a long time lol.

I also have made it a rule that anytime laundry gets done it has to be folded immediately. Part of this involved getting rid of the laundry chair(iykyk) so there was no where for the laundry to go but in the closet.

Anyway that’s all I have for now. These have really helped me and my tornado tendencies be a lot more tidy especially while at college in a much smaller room that I share.

Xoxo 💋

[koolades-world]

So, request for the Obey me boys (main and side). When I'm emotionally stressed or overwhelmed, I get the urge to clean (especially if my space has been needing it). So, how would they react to an MC spontaniously cleaning anything and everything in that sort of state (Dishes, Floors, surfaces, their own room, etc)?

hi! sure thing!

i relate to this on such a deep level. it's when i get my best cleaning done LOL. having a crisis? suddenly the room is the best it's looked in months

posting this instead of spellbound because getting my car took much longer than I expected. spellbound will be tomorrow for sure :)

enjoy <3

Mc who spontaneously cleans

Lucifer

he may just have to marry you on the spot

his brothers aren’t exactly the cleanest bunch and sometimes he feels like he’s the only one making an effort

he might cry if he comes downstairs one morning and the kitchen is sparkling

Mammon

if he’s not the messiest bitch ever… no shade but there’s no way his room doesn’t look like it was hit by a tornado

however if he ever sees you cleaning he'll try his best to help

he will also try his best to keep things tidy to make it less work for you <3

Levi

I can’t explain it but something about him screams neat freak to me

but, this only applies to his spaces because it would be too much work

he applauded your efforts because more than once he’s cracked and just deep cleaned everything haha

Satan

he’s clean when he wants to be

and most of the time, he is. the only times he isn’t is to piss off lucifer even though he’s just going to drag him back to do it anyways

after seeing how hard you work, he never does that again haha. he would hate for you to have to pick up after him

Asmo

somehow clean but messy at the same time

he won't stop you if you want to go to town cleaning up his makeup pallets and what not

afterwards though he makes sure to treat you <3

Beel

definitely the guy that takes three plus showers a day lol

he always asks you to make sure he's picking up after himself though just in case

he appreciates you and everything you do :)

Belphie

if you think he's tidy, i am so sorry you are wrong haha

will complain about an area being dirty and then proceed to ask why you were cleaning it up

however he will thank you every time he notices you've tidied up :)

Diavolo

despite the fact that he has a whole team that cleans for him, he hates to leave behind a mess

so, he always insists you get him when you get the urge to clean

everything is better when you have someone by your side! besides, he'll take any excuse to be by your side

Barbatos

you know him, he’s incredibly tidy to the point that it’s almost impossible to find a mess in the demon lord’s palace

but in the rare cause you’ve beat him to it, he’s grateful since it’s rare he gets help

afterward, you’ll be having tea together, his treat

Simeon

he also seems like his things are always clean no matter what

it's almost like he's magic at the rate at which messes vanish

he will feel bad if he sees you cleaning, and will take over

Luke

both of his dads (simebarb sorry for kinda sneaking this narrative in here lol) are both neat people, so it only makes sense for him to be too

after all, he wants to be just like them!

if he catches you cleaning, he will instantly join in

Solomon

he seems like he would live realistically, not too dirty, but also not too clean

if things are a little cluttered, he's alright with it because it looks lived in

if you do spontaneously clean, he'll try his best to make it up to you with his cooking!!

[finelinevogue]

For prompt list, number 39 Harry Styles friends to lovers? Love your writing 🩷

thank you my lovely!!! you’re so kind💖💖

>500 words

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

You stood and watched Harry as he scoffed at your question.

His bedroom in his university flat didn’t seem so big anymore with the two of you raging at each other.

You had come to visit Harry, your best friend, for the weekend, as you hadn’t seem him since you’d both moved away from home and off to university. It just so happened that Harry’s flat was hosting a flat party - so subsequently you’d been invited.

It had been going well.

You’d met Harry’s flatmates and they were lovely. You’d gotten ready with the girls in his flat whilst the boys went to the off-licence for drinks. The party had lots of people and it was fun. Perhaps a little too fun, or at least it had been when Harry had caught you.

“You were talking to Oliver.” Harry stressed, running a hand through his soft hair.

“And?” You exclaimed.

“He’s my fucking roommate.”

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that.” You glared at him, chest heaving as you pointed at him.

Harry’s tense brows dropped then, finally allowing himself a moment of calm. It was just you two in his bedroom - no one else. More importantly, no Oliver.

“I’m sorry.”

Harry huffed before slumping down on his tidy bed. Harry had always been very neat and orderly. It was one of the things you loved about him. Well, that and a list of another hundred things or so.

It was getting more and more difficult to keep that love a secret though.

It was clear that you both had feelings for one another. It was evident in the way that Harry didn’t exactly like you and Oliver cosying up to one another. It was evident in the way you’d decided to come down this weekend because you missed him so much and were scared he might’ve moved on.

Perhaps you were both idiots.

You slumped down next to Harry, forcefully taking one of his hands in yours and holding it tight before resting your head on his shoulder.

“I don’t like Oliver like that, just for reference.” You said quietly.

“I know. I could tell by the way you kept drinking rather than talking. Normally I can’t get you to shut up and yet with Oliver there was more silence than anything.” Harry chuckled beside you, making your head wobble against his shoulder.

You couldn’t help but smile at how well Harry knew you and all your tells.

“He was talking about his grandmothers Christmas bauble collection. It wasn’t exactly a riveting conversation.” You laughed. “He does seem like a good friend though.”

“He is.”

“So why’d you pull me away from him?” You took your head off his shoulder to look at him properly.

He nervously looked down before looking back at you, needing to keep ahold of your hand for support.

“I think you know.”

You gave him a small smile, accompanied by a minor blush. You nodded and watched his smile become bashful at your agreement.

Harry chuckled to himself as he looked away from you, trying to focus on something that would stop him grinning from ear to ear but it was proving quite difficult - especially when you’d both admitted to something as big as feelings.

“So what now?” He asked you.

“Well… You could ask me out? I might say yes.”

He turned to look at you with a cheeky smirk, “Or we could skip all that and you just let me kiss you?”

You stood up then - moving away from temptation.

“No. I don’t kiss on the first date and I definitely don’t make exceptions for my best friend.”

“Still your best friend, hmm?” Harry leaned back on his arms, stretched behind him on his bed as we watched you.

“You’ll always be my best friend, H. This time, though, I’ll just get to kiss my best friend too.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Helper

Lia Wälti x Child!Reader

Leah Williamson x Child!Reader

Summary: You're the best helper

When auntie Leah tears her acl, Mummy moves you and herself into Leah's house.

She says it's because Leah will need some support. You think it's because Mummy thinks Leah won't eat proper meals. Sometimes, Mummy says Leah eats like she's rationing which means she's got a bad palate and the taste buds of a kid a lot younger than you.

But Mummy is insistent that auntie Leah just needs a bit of support and some help.

Thankfully though, Mummy always calls you her best helper so you make sure to be Leah's best helper too.

"Morning, guppy," Mummy greets you one morning.

"Hi, Mummy," You say, giving her a big morning hug. You're still very little, not yet old enough to go to school but you're getting there. Mummy says next year, you were born just a few days too late to go to school this year.

That's fine though.

That gives you time to be a big help to auntie Leah.

"What's for breakfast?" You try to peak up at the counter but you're still too little and Mummy smiles.

"Pancakes."

You gasp. "Really?"

"Really, guppy. Now, before pancakes, what must we do?"

"Wash our hands."

"That's right. Your auntie Leah is still sleeping. Do you want to wake her up for me? So we can all have pancakes?"

You nod.

"Okay, off you go."

You hurry up the stairs to auntie Leah's room and slip inside.

Mummy is right. Leah's fast asleep, like a big lump in the middle of the bed. Her crutches are on the floor near the door and you move to lean them up closer to her, so she can grab them.

You also move all of the clothes out of the way of the path to her door.

A few days ago, Mummy caught you trying to clean Leah's room for her but she said Leah's an adult and she doesn't need help keeping her room tidy and just because yours is always neat doesn't mean that Leah's had to be the same.

That was a little confusing because Mummy's room is also clean and tidy so you'd just assumed it was an adult thing.

You shuffle the clothes out of the way though just so it's easier for her.

Leah doesn't like the big light in the morning because it always scares her awake so you half-open her curtains before finally properly approaching her.

"Auntie Leah," You whisper, shaking her shoulder," It's morning time."

Leah grunts a little, trying to roll over. "Five more minutes."

"Mummy's making pancakes," You tell her," And she told me to get you up. We need to wash our hands before eating."

Leah seems a bit more awake at that and you help her pull her covers down so she can get out of bed.

"Thanks, guppy," She says as you help her with her crutches.

"That's okay, auntie Leah! We still need to go to the bathroom to do our hands though. Mummy says it's very important to wash the germs off our hands before eating."

"Oh, wow," Leah says as she walks with you," Thanks for telling me."

"That's okay," You reply, holding the bathroom door open for her," Mummy also says two squirts of soap to make sure you're hands are very clean and the germs go away."

To demonstrate, you stand on your stool and squirt two loads of soap on your hand and wash your hands like Mummy's shown you since you were little.

You supervise Leah washing your hands before helping her down the stairs, picking up all the things that were strewn across them last night.

"Mummy," You say," Auntie Leah and I washed our hands."

Lia turns around just as Leah slides into her seat. "Well," She says," You're right on time because I just finished the pancakes." She helps you up onto your own seat, cutting up your pancakes for you before sliding the plate towards you.

"Mummy," You say as you eat," Do we need to do dishes?"

"I do, yes," Mummy says in amusement, knowing exactly what you want to ask.

"Can I help?"

"I don't know, guppy," She says," Are you sure? You can go and play with Leah."

You shake your head. "No thank you, Mummy. I can help you. Auntie Leah can relax."

Leah snickers at your side. "Jesus, Lia, are you sure you're raising a child? I've never met a kid so well behaved."

Lia rolls her eyes. "I'm raising her to be polite. It's not my fault she's naturally like that."

You beam proudly at that, puffing out your chest whenever anyone tells you that you're being polite.

"Are you sure, guppy?" Auntie Leah checks with you," We can sit down and play FIFA."

"No thank you, auntie Leah," You say," I'd like to help Mummy clean up first."

"Well," Leah says, sticking her hands up," I tried."

Lia laughs as she picks you up, dragging another one of your stools over so you can be high enough to reach the sink. "Thank you for wanting to help me, guppy."

"It's okay, Mummy," You reply," If we do it together then it'll take half the time!"

[theseinfernalangels]

A Reticent Girl’s Rage - Sawyer Henrick ❤️‍🩹

Synopsis: Even the gentlest of souls need a moment to scream. 

Includes: Oh, boy. Lore time. Requires reading of Kora’s previous chapters, sweetie boy Sawyer POV to start and Kora after the cut, relatable moments for girls like us who just need to throw shit around every once in a while (basically hurt/comfort?). Takes place during Fourth Wing.

Oh gods, she’s mad. She’s fuming. It’s incomprehensible. All-consuming. Not like her at all, but dammit — it is. It’s all her, and it’s clear that she hates it.

It’s not like she can exactly hide it, either. The squad, for what we’re worth, are some of the most observant people in the wing. Throughout our weekly study session, we exchange concerned glances when she mutters quiet curses under her breath, when her fingers tighten around her pen and the nib snaps off three times in a row.

The others look to me when she’s not looking. All I can do is shrug and go back to writing, keeping an eye on her from my peripherals.

This is a different type of rage, barely contained through clenched fists and whispered swearing. It’s so…not her, but at the same time, it is. I’ve always known there’s something lurking under the skin of my quiet, gentle girl, but I’ve only seen it in fractions of moments.

When she beat Gavin Lawner on Assessment Day for calling her weak.

When Tynan wouldn’t shut up about Violet during Gauntlet practice, right before I intervened.

When Imogen Cardulo got smart with her and told her she looked just like her mother.

…Yeah. She really took that one to heart.

In the end, when she hastily gathers her things and throws them in her pack without her usual precision, it’s me who decides to brush my fingers against hers, feather-light and warm. Her hand twitches in response. Her head tilts up to meet my eyes, and gods, my heart clenches. She looks so pissed, so defeated — I can hardly believe it’s my girl staring back at me.

“Hey,” I whisper, aching to bring her closer to me. My own self-control surprises me sometimes, because while I want nothing more than to take her in my arms, I know that’s clearly not what she needs. “Talk to me?”

She bites the scarred inside of her cheek and sighs hotly, cringing immediately after. “I…” She hesitates. She’s not one to be open about her sadness, and especially not her anger, even though it’s painted clear as day on her face. But I get it. I gently hook my pinky around hers and guide her from the commons, blocking her from the others’ sights with my back to them. 

“You don’t have to tell me about it now,” I begin carefully, eyeing her closely, keeping tabs on every movement she might make. “Because you know I’d never pry into your business.” My voice lowers a tad. “But can we talk? Just us?”

Immediately she opens her mouth, probably to rebuke me, and then she freezes. I can practically see the little gears turning in her mind, deciding if she wants to go through the mental struggle of trying to tell me about what could possibly be making her so upset.

In the end, she seems to deflate a little, her shoulders slumping in exhaustion. “…Yeah,” she replies, her voice suddenly rough. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

That’s more than I could have hoped for, actually. I nod over to Ridoc, who seems to get the memo, and expertly drags his conversation with the others into a whole new subject while I lead her away. I don’t speak at all, don’t make an attempt to even get her to talk, because I know that talking now will kill any chance at progress later. Instead, I habitually keep a hand at the small of her back, guiding her along carefully like she might run away otherwise.

Honestly? She might. She’s not very helpful in the feelings department.

I lead her to our corridor and make a split change in decision to go to her door instead. We’re always in my room; I think I’ve only been in hers two or three times, just to grab some things or to check the locks. It’s so perfectly tidy, neat and precise, that it speaks to the lack of time spent in here. Even that manages to make me wince. We really need to start sleeping in here more.

I shut the door behind us and take a step back, giving her the room I know she desperately wants. But I’m just a guy, so I ask, “Can I come closer? Is that okay?”

Scratch that.

She stares down at her hands, slightly shaking, before she nod. At once, I’m by her side, carefully wrapping my arms around her waist the way she likes and and pressing my lips to her temple. I swear mentally when I lean back and watch hot tears start to gather at her waterline.

“Hey,” I soothe, my voice little more than a whisper. “Hey. Easy, darling. It’s just me.”

Her hands fist my top tightly. “I’m sorry,” she breathes. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be too much, I just—“

Her voice breaks off, and I make a quiet noise of protest, stroking her back softly. When she doesn’t continue, I tilt my head. “Shitty day?”

She hums in affirmation, staring at the ground. “Awful.”

My lips find her cheek, and she relaxes into me a little. I know I’m warm — I’ve always run on the hotter side — and she can’t help but to press her face into my chest when I ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”

She frowns, and I wait patiently for her to speak. “I…I don’t want to be a burden,” she admits, her cheeks flushing. “I don’t want to push my feelings on to you, because you shouldn’t have to deal with me being upset like this. I can get over it.”

I purse my lips and squeeze her waist. “You’re not a burden, and you’re not pushing your feelings on to me. I asked what was wrong. Usually, I’d let you come to me first, but this is more serious than usual, I’m guessing.”

“I…” Her eyes dart away, clearly debating the line of saying too much and not enough. It’s not a secret to me that she’s generally reserved when it comes to talking about pretty much anything that could be upsetting to her, which, judging by how hard she cried after losing Aurelie at the Gauntlet, is a lot. I’ve never tried to wedge into her business, because she deserves as much privacy as possible, but when she’s reduced to this…This is an actual issue. I can’t help but ask.

I stay quiet, silently encouraging her to continue.

“Someone said something to me,” she finally says quietly. “And it really hurt my feelings.”

I’m on guard immediately. People have been assholes to her since Parapet, for sure. That was bound to happen, being the daughter of a notoriously malicious rider who played a big part of crushing the Tyrrish Rebellion. I can count past my fingers the amount of times marked cadets have shot murderous glances her way, or someone has been stupid enough to assume that she’s weak and incapable of fighting because she’s definitely not like the rumors about her family. 

“Yeah?” I keep my tone void of the anger I feel. “Tell me more?”

She bites down on her lip, and it takes everything in me not to reach over and tug it out from her teeth. Her eyes sweep the room, like there’s a threat invisible to the both of us in the safety of her private quarters.

Then, in a small voice, she just says, “Dain.”

Wait, huh? Aetos? From what she’s told me, our Squad Leader — as annoying as I find him, the prick — is basically an older brother to her, since they grew up together. He wouldn’t try and hurt my girl…would he?

“Aetos?” I voice my confusion aloud. “What did he do?”

To my surprise, she breaks from my hold with a harsh breath and whirls around, the tempest returning to her eyes as she mutters, “It doesn’t really even matter. I just…” She growls in frustration, swiping her bangs from her forehead. “It’s stupid.”

“Not stupid enough if it’s making you feel like this,” I tell her gently. “You can tell me.”

She doesn’t reply, glancing out her window like she’s thinking about screaming out of it. I’m not quite sure how she exactly deals with anger, since I’ve only ever seen her mildly annoyed, at most. She looks at the armoire across the room and then back at me, silently contemplating something in that storm of a mind. The next thing that leaves her mouth catches me off guard.

“Would you be freaked out if I threw some shit?”

Instead of concern, like any sane reaction, I snort. “No. The only thing I’ll comment on is the property damage.”

She huffs out a quiet laugh and draws a dagger from the sheathe by her thigh, sizes up her armoire, and throws. It’s vicious, precise; everything I could expect from her. The blade flies and sinks into the wood with a muffled sound, and she watches it for a moment before she grabs another.

It’s…different, watching her eye the wood like it’s personally offended her, but it’s not unwelcome. Personally, I would rather see her pissed off and murdering furniture than have her destroy herself from the inside out.

I make myself at home on her bed, folded cleanly enough that you can tell she never sleeps in it, and watch her launch another blade across the room. It takes five minutes before I hear her muttering under her breath.

“Fucking asshole,” she seethes. “Telling me…Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you—“

“Darling,” I interrupt her quietly. “Was Aetos a prick to you?”

She pauses in her movements, clearly weighing her words, before she nods, throwing her arm back and sinking another blade into her armoire. To my surprise, she begins to speak — even if it mostly sounds like pissed off ramblings.

“They gave me this patch. Supposed to mark the first kill of the year. They gave it to me, right, because of that guy on the parapet.”

I nod. “The marked guy, right?” Word had spread as soon as it happened that there was a fight in the middle of the parapet. I hadn’t known it was her until Rhiannon had recounted the fight in spectacular detail. How she survived at all is a mystery to me.

She lets out a noise of frustration and chucks another blade. “Yeah. I didn’t want it. Still don’t. But I took it anyway, because I didn’t want to make a fuss.” 

She turns to wrench the blades from the wood, but I beat her to it with the wave of a hand. I catch a few and hold them out to her patiently. Her face softens a little, but she just snatches them back up and…Yep, there’s the thunk of wood.

“But I did try to throw it out, because I don’t want to celebrate fucking killing someone.” She sounds breathless for a second before continuing. “But Dain saw me and asked why I didn’t want it.”

She starts pacing, a familiar anxious habit of hers. “And so I told him. And you’d think he’d understand me, right? Because he’s a brother to me, and he knows how I feel about taking lives.”

My girl goes quiet for a second, and I watch with an aching heart as her eyes darken.

“And that fucking dickhead,” she snarls, “has the audacity to tell me that, ‘It was fine, because no one would be missing him anyway.’” She tightens her grip on the hilt of the dagger she holds. “Because he was marked. He was talking about the guy’s family.”

I suck in a breath, icy anger chilling me to my core. Of all of the many, many things I hold against Dain Aetos (mostly just him being a stuck-up asshole), that’s absolutely incomparable.

“That’s…” I can’t even find the words. “That’s fucked up.”

“That’s such bullshit!” I startle a little as she shouts, whipping around and hurling a dagger into the armoire. “He was still a person. He was someone’s brother, someone’s son. And I—“ Her voice breaks. “I fucking killed him.”

“And it’s valid that you’re upset,” I soothe, “I get it. But, in all fairness, darling, you couldn’t really help that. He tried to kill you first.”

“That still doesn’t make it okay,” she insists, resuming her pacing. “I should have angled it better, or just knocked him behind me and run, but I was so stupid in the moment—“

“Not stupid,” I correct. “Frightened. Anyone would be at the prospect of someone else trying to kill them.”

“That’s not enough,” she sighs, feeling around for another dagger. I slip her one silently. “And then I tell fucking Dain about it, because I know Dain, because I like Dain, because he’s always been good to me.” 

Her fingers tighten around the hilt. “But that was dumb, because Dain wants to be like dear old dad.” Her voice rises a little, as does my heartbeat. “And dear old dad is a fucking piece of shit!” Another thud sounds as the dagger sinks into the wood. My eyes dart around, as if the Colonel might pop out at any given moment, but she continues anyway.

“Following in my mother’s footsteps,” she mocks, swiping another knife from my hand. “Fucking really? That’s all you have to say to me while I’m so distraught, I can’t even breathe? What the hell?!”

I blink. Now, here’s the thing: Despite her infamy, my girl never speaks about her mother, who’s apparently missing, willingly. If she does, on the very rare occasion, it is never — never— without a grimace or a glare on her face. 

I can only imagine that her relationship with her mother, unaffectionately referred to as simply, “The Major,” is close to that of my relationship with my own mom. In other words…not that good.

“He said that to you?” I ask, unable to keep the disgust from my voice. “To your face?”

I watch as she clenches her jaw and turns to face me, familiar tears beginning to brim in her eyes. “I have tried so hard,” she whispers harshly, “not to become like my mother. She is a fucking liar and a murderer, and she did it all with a smile on her face. I don’t want that for myself, Sawyer.”

Her head tilts up as a bitter smile crosses her face. I go to move as hot tears start rolling down her cheeks, but she just laughs hollowly, stopping me in my tracks. “And now look at me,” she mutters. “I’m no better than she is.”

“Darling.” I stand and inch towards her, but it’s clear to me that she clearly craves the space between us, so I stop about five feet away. “You aren’t a murderer.”

Helplessly, I watch her roughly wipe the tears from her cheeks as she throws the last blade in her hand. Her armoire, to say the least, looks to be the real victim of this situation, the wood scarred and messy from just how hard she threw her daggers. We can get it fixed, probably, but I can’t imagine how we’ll be able to explain it without getting a lecture in return.

“I am,” she murmurs. “Because I killed someone, Sawyer. I knew what would happen, and I did it anyway. I can’t…” She looks back to me, pure desperation shining in her eyes. “I can’t live with that. I just can’t.”

I pause where I am, running through a mental list of things I could possibly say to make her feel better — but, unsurprisingly, I can’t think of a solid answer. So, I go a different route: I don’t say anything at all.

She stalks over to her armoire, raising shaky fingers just above the dented wood, her index finger tracing the scars lightly. Then, with a scream that — honestly, sounds more grievingthan it is angry — she throws her arm back hard and punches the side of the armoire so hard that I hear the damn thing creak, a few of the blades falling to the floor in a chorus of clatters.

I should probably get her to stop before she hurts herself. Really, I should — but I don’t. Why? Honestly, I think she needs this. She’s never unleashed her anger on…anything, really, and if this is how she feels about something that happened almost six months ago, then I can’t even begin to imagine how she feels about everything else in her life. About how she grew up — which, according to Violet, was rough. About her father’s death. About her mother and her disappearance. 

She really needs to vent. If she needs to do it by beating the shit out of an armoire, then godsdammit, I’ll let her beat the shit out of the armoire.

I hope that no one is in the hallway yet, though, because she yells so loudly, so harshly, that I’m sure it sounds like a fight in here. It’s only when she throws her fifth punch that I catch the words she’s clearly been wanting to release all along.

“I—“ Punch — “fucking” — Punch — “hate you!” 

It’s not directed at me, obviously, because I know her well enough that she’d never say things like that to me in anger. But…ouch. My heart tears a little as she starts crying harder, her punches growing weaker as her emotions overcome her.

That’s it. This is where I’m needed.

I ease my way over to her now-trembling form, making sure to keep a few feet away while she’s still pounding her fists against the wood. The surface is battered, stabbed and beaten beyond reason. Yeah, we’re definitely going to have to get a new armoire. We’ll be lucky if this one lasts more than a week.

I tense as she stills for a moment, her breath coming out in harsh gulps, before she lets out a broken scream that I never, ever want to hear from her again. She lunges for the frame of the wood, and her fist flies—

But the wood doesn’t dent again. In fact, the moment her hand touches the wood, it smooths over as if she’d never even touched it.

She halts mid-jump, and my hands wind around her waist just in time before her body crashes into the wood, instead bringing her into my chest as she gasps. She flinches for a second before she whips around to face the armoire, now completely intact and looking almost brand new, maybe in better condition than it was in when we walked in.

“W-What?” she sputters, clearly as confused as I am. She looks down at her hands — gods, they’re all bruised now — and stares at them with wide eyes. “What the fuck?”

I keep her close as she trembles, disoriented and clear from all the rage she just felt moments ago. I stare down at her hands too, and then it clicks.

Of all the times to manifest a signet, her magic chose to do it while she was having a breakdown. How fucking considerate.

Cautiously, my hands leave her waist and reach to cup her own, and she doesn’t move away. 

“I think…” I choose my words carefully. “That would be your signet.”

She doesn’t say anything back, and for a second, I worry she’s going into shock — but then her face pales, and I realize she’s speaking to Cridhe. Or, more accurately, Cridhe is telling her what she already knows.

My lips find purchase on her shoulder, right above the relic of her dragon, and before I can say anything else, she turns and sinks completely into me with a quiet sob.

It could be for a plethora of things. It could be because of the pressure I know she puts on herself. It could be because of what Aetos said to her (I am going to fucking rip him a new one when I see him next). It could be because she’s in pain…but I reach for the easiest option.

I hug her and lower us to the ground, letting her go limp as she cries softly into my shoulder. One of my hand finds her hair and starts stroking it the way I know she likes, before I speak.

“Darling,” I prompt her. When she doesn’t respond, I suck in a breath before I correct myself. “Kardia.”

She quiets down for a second, the old Lucerish nickname catching her attention instantly. I rest my chin on her head and am sure to mind my tone, not wanting to upset her more than she already is.

“I know you’re scared, and I know you’re hurting. No one says you can’t. I’m so glad that you feel safe enough around me to let your anger show. It’s an honor to be able to have that kind of trust.”

No response.

“But,” I continue, “more importantly, I need you to listen to me like I listened to you. Can you do that for me?”

No response. Then, a heartbeat later, a nod.

“Thank you.” I brush my thumb back and forth over the back of her neck. “Sweet girl,” I murmur. “You are not a murderer, and you certainly are not like your mother. No matter who says what to you, you know yourself the best. You know your character. You are the kindest, gentlest, sweetest person in this college. If you’re a murderer, then the rest of us have a special place in Hell waiting for us.”

That earns me a soft, hollow laugh.

“I’ve never met your mom,” I continue. “And I guess that I probably wouldn’t want to, because I’d punch the fuck out of her for all the shit she put you through. But I can say with every confident cell in my body that you are the furthest thing from a liar or a murderer.”

She laughs again, and whispers into my shirt, “You wouldn’t survive that. She’d kill you where you stood.”

I know she’s probably serious, but I manage a smile. “Oh well, then. At least I tried.”

I glance back over at the armoire before I sigh. “I’m going to kill him,” I mutter under my breath. Aetos is a douchebag. I asserted that much during our first year, when he wouldn’t stop reciting the Codex every five godsdamn minutes. I could forgive him for that.

But making my girl so angry, so upset, that she had a breakdown powerful enough to manifest her signet? There’s going to be a special hell to pay for that.

A quiet sniffle has me looking back down. “Please don’t,” she pleads, one of her hands reaching around to grab my wrist. “He’s an asshole, and I don’t forgive him, and he makes me so angry now, but I know he’s not truly a bad person. He didn’t mean me any harm.”

That doesn’t really matter to me. Hell, if I had the chance, I’d pummel the fuck out of Aetos in his sleep and dump his self-righteous body in the river. But for her, for the beautiful girl crying in my arms, I guess I’ll hold off.

I decide to try and change the subject. “Did Cridhe tell you what happened? When you fixed the wood?”

She stays silent for a second, back in the frame of mind to actually think out her words before she speaks them aloud. “…He didn’t need to. I already knew.”

“Oh, yeah?” I shift, taking on of her hands and grazing my mouth along her bruised knuckles. 

“Yeah.” A beat. “I recognized it right away. I didn’t fix the wood — I mended it.”

I pause in my ministrations. A mender. That’s a damn rare signet to come by these days, and in high demand, too. It makes total sense for her; she’s got a healer’s soul, through and through, and all she ever wants to do is help people, to fix the pain and save lives, not take them.

“That’s amazing,” I tell her, and I mean it. “That feels perfect for you.”

She doesn’t answer me, instead flexing her fingers like something unspoken is going through that messy mind of hers. I don’t ask, though. She’s already trusted me with enough of her inner dialogue for now.

“I recognized the feeling,” she says softly, and I peer down at her face, messy with tears and strands of wet hair sticking to her temples. I brush them out of her face and kiss her forehead.“It’s what it felt like whenever Brennan would fix my scraped knees.”

My brow furrows — because who the fuck is Brennan? Then, I blink. Oh. Violet’s brother. The one that was killed by Fen Riorson a couple of years back. If she’s close enough to Vi that they refer to each other as sisters, then she must have been close to Brennan, too “Sorrengail?” I ask. 

She nods. “He was the closest thing I ever had to a brother. Cared about me more than my family did, I think.”

Then, in a voice that practically rips me in fucking two, she whispers, “I wanted to be just like him when I grew up.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

She didn’t manifest mending because she wants to help people; she manifested it because she wants to be like her big brother.

Of everything I’ve heard and seen within the past hour, I think that’s the part that does me in.

I take a second to breathe in, clearing the emotion from my lungs (because this isn’t about me), and then ask, “Do you want to go see someone? Maybe Eden or Vi, before you have to see Professor Carr?”

She weighs the options carefully, turning her hands back and forth to try and assess the damage they’ve taken, before she sighs. “I guess I have to. Eden has off tonight. I think she’ll be thrilled.”

I shoot my girl a tight-lipped smile and kiss her temple gently. “Let’s do that, then.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It’s a day or two later when you get a knock at your door. Ever since having your little spat with the armoire, you’ve spent a bit more time in your room, trying to

see if there’s any evidence left of the daggers or punches you threw.

Of course, there’s none. It’s been mended to perfection. Clean, smooth, precise perfection — just like how Brennan did it. Would have done it.

Ouch.

The lock slides with a small click, and to your surprise, it’s not Sawyer who pokes his head through the opening. It’s Liam, actually, his golden locks tumbling in his eyes clumsily.

“Hey.” He greets you with that usual grin that looks like the epitome of sunshine before nodding to the wooden furniture. “I brought my knife.”

You blink up at him for a second before you realize what he’s getting at, and then you chuckle. “I thought you were kidding about that.”

He slides in and closes the door briskly, dropping to his knees in front of the armoire and examining it closely. “I never kid when it comes to wood.”

The room goes silent before you groan, slapping a hand over your face. “I think I might hate you, actually.” 

Liam bursts out laughing before turning his attention forward again. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

You snort and return to sorting through your papers, sorting your old homework into keepand chuck piles for better organization. You hardly mind it when Liam takes his knife to the frame of the armoire drawer, carving out delicate divots with little shck, shck, shck noises. If you called him an artist, this must be his canvas — and he looks happy as can be, taking a knife to the door.

It’s a nice surprise. You thought he’d hated you for sure, but now that Liam’s been in your squad for about a month now, you’ve determined that he’s one of the few marked ones who doesn’t want you dead, although he has every right to — probably the most out of his group.

Your mother slaughtered his father, and probably laughed about it. Enough said. You wouldn’t blame him if he killed you in your sleep.

But he won’t. Liam is kind, kinder than you deserve. You’ll take every bit of grace from him that he offers.

“Sawyer said you manifested,” he comments, thumbing a dent and widening it with his blade. “A mender, huh? That’s pretty sick.”

You hum. “Yeah. They’re probably gonna keep me in the infirmary a lot more often for training. Maybe I can sneak love notes for you and Eden.”

His head pops up, his eyes shining at the mention of his girl. “Would you? I’ll repay you in carvings and emotional labor.”

That drags a laugh from you, sharp and unexpected. “Gosh, no. Consider it me repaying you. You’re far too nice to me than what I deserve.”

He frowns, and it catches you completely off guard when he simply says, “No. I’m nice to you because we’re friends, Callahan. I like you, you know.”

It takes a second for you to process his words completely, and another to collect yourself so you don’t start spontaneously crying again. Once you have your usual leash back on, you start leafing through papers again. “I appreciate that. Thanks for being honest.”

He curves the blade up, carving what looks like…Is that Cridhe? It’s gotta be. Only one dragon has a heart-shaped scar like that. “Of course. I’m not a fan of lying.”

You wince at a particularly poorly-written report and place it face-down in the chuck pile. “It never gets easier, does it?”

He smiles, tight-lipped. “Are you saying I’m a habitual liar, Callahan?”

You shrug. “Aren’t we, though? I keep it from Sawyer, and you keep it from Eden. There’s no harm in it, I guess, but it’s not something I enjoy.”

Liam doesn’t pause in his movements, but his next words are carefully chosen. “What do you mean?”

You finally look up. “You know. Our troops killing Poromish civilians. Dark wielders. That stuff.”

As soon as the words, “dark wielders,” leave your mouth, Liam chokes and almost drops his knife, hissing in annoyance when the blade scratches against a callus and tugging it open.

Your eyes widen, and you swear lowly. “Fuck. I’m sorry. Let me see that, hold on.”

You crouch in front of him and grab his hand, examining the wound before you dip your thumb down and close your eyes, pulling a string of warmth from your mental index and shoving it into Liam. The callus weaves itself shut, the blood dissipating until you let go.

You move to get back to your pile of papers, but Liam holds fast, his eyes wide and stunned. You just raise an eyebrow. “What?”

He doesn’t even blink. “Say that again,” he breathes, tightening his grip on you when you don’t. “Say it, Callahan.”

You startle a little. “What?” you repeat, staring at the taller boy incredulously. “You think you’re the only one who knows the truth? Come on, Liam. The entire upper command knows about them. They just don’t give a shit to actually address the problem.”

Liam blinks and shakes his head a little as if to clear his head from his stupor. He glanced around, like anyone could be listening, and leans in. “You know?” he asks cautiously, his voice low and full of bewilderment. “Like, know know?”

He watches in shock as you hold his gaze, shrugging casually.

“Of course I do,” you reply evenly. “Why else would I be here?”

Taglist: @wonderstruckbyyou, @jessicalee22likestowrite, @freezerbride18, @ineednewdaggers, @suspicious-stain-in-spain, @kienhawon, @goldenmagnolias, @bi-incog-btch, @gracie-rosee, @lxnvmvrzx, @dragonridersandhighlords

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[littleslaywrites]

head over boots | spencer reid x farmer’s daughter!reader

summary: you bring spencer home to meet your parents and show him around the farm you grew up on

word count: 1.9k

cw: pure fluff, farm shenanigans, city boy spencer

Spencer was neat. He kept his home tidy, banishing germs before they could appear. He was indoorsy, preferring books of the wilderness over the actual thing.

So, naturally, you were nervous to bring him home. You grew up wearing dusty boots in the hot sun to shovel hay into your horses’ troughs. It seemed like your parents called every other week asking when they’d get to meet your boyfriend. You wanted Spencer to meet them, but you worried that he’d hate the farm you had grown up on. 

“I want to see it,” Spencer said one night after you got off the phone with your parents.

“I just don’t want you to hate it. It’s not really your kind of place.”

“If it’s for you, I’ll do it.”

Spencer eventually persuaded you when he had three weeks off of work. While packing, you had to convince him to leave his nice sweaters behind.

“I want to look good when I meet your parents,” he protests when you pull out his oldest pair of jeans from the bottom of the drawers. 

“Even if you do wear something nice, the wind will pick up and cover you in dust before you make it inside.”

You compromise by letting him pack a few nice outfits “just in case”. The two of you also go shopping for a pair of boots, so he won’t get his converse dirty. He even convinces you to let him buy a cowboy hat. You couldn’t resist when you saw how cute he looked when he put it on.

When you finally pull up to your house, your parents are standing on the porch. Spencer is clearly nervous, looking slightly out of place in his button up, old jeans, and brand-new boots. 

“They’ll love you,” you reassure him as you approach the house. You’re briefly stopped by a goat that trots in front of you, causing Spencer to tentatively step around it. His avoidance is futile, as it walks up and begins to chew on his pantleg anyway. You call for him to keep walking, and he hops away until the goat leaves him alone. 

“I see you’ve already met one of the livestock,” your dad calls out as you walk up the steps to the porch. 

Your parents introduce themselves, and Spencer's nervousness slowly dissipates as they invite him inside and offer him something to drink. You can tell he’s growing on them with every word he speaks.

His trial isn’t over, though. “Would you mind feeding the chickens and cleaning their coop?” your mom asks the two of you as she starts to prepare dinner.

“I love cleaning,” Spencer says a little too enthusiastically. You giggle at this, knowing the type of cleaning you’re about to do is nothing like Spencer has done before. 

You make your way to the back of the house, Spencer trailing behind you. When you pick up the bag of feed, he insists on carrying it for you. “It’s heavy,” he remarks once it’s up on his shoulder. You only give him a hum as a reply. 

Opening the coop releases a deluge of chickens that weave in and out of your legs. Spencer squeals, trying to get up on his toes to avoid their small feet.

“Are you afraid of the chickens?”

“No,” he indignantly replies. “They were coming straight for me.”

“Will you go get us some gloves and masks from that shed over there?” 

You throw some feed around as he digs through the shed. Retrieving a new bag of bedding, you watch him pull the gloves over his hands, still keeping a good distance from the chickens. 

When you meet him back at the coop with the bag and a broom in hand, he’s looking even more awkward than usual, hands held away from his sides.

“You don’t have to help if you don’t want to,” you say, noticing his discomfort.

“I can do it,” he says, taking a minuscule step toward the flock.

“Then bring over that hose.”

You make work of the coop, using the broom to sweep out all the bedding. After about a minute, you call out to Spencer. “What’s taking you so long?”

“Nothing,” he mutters.

Turning around, you met with the sight of him hobbling towards you, dragging the hose between his legs.

“What on earth are you doing?”

He drops it, arms raised in a shrug to show his exasperation. 

“I’ll do it,” you say, approaching him. “Finish sweeping the bedding out.”

He reluctantly picks up the broom, just slightly less awkward than he was with the hose. 

When everything is out of the coop, you turn on the hose, spraying the insides with water. Spencer jogs backwards to avoid the splash, but trips on the now discarded broom and falls right into a group of chickens. They go running every which way, bawking at the intruder.

“Spencer–” You turn back, forgetting you have the hose and dampening his shirt. 

“Ah!” 

You drop the hose and walk towards where he’s splayed in the dirt. “Are you alright?”

“You sprayed me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t move to get up. “Are you gonna lay there all day?”

“Maybe.”

You reach a hand out, and he grabs it to stand up. He turns around and you brush as much dirt off his back as you can. 

You go back to hosing down the coop, Spencer keeping a good distance from you. Letting it air dry, the two of you sit on the swing on your back porch.

“This is interesting,” Spencer remarks, foot planted on the ground to rock you back and forth.

“I warned you.” 

“I didn’t say it was bad.” He takes hold of your hand, gloves now laying beside him.

“You don’t have to say it for me to know.” You look at his shirt, slowly drying in the sun. You’re sure he’s dying inside, feeling damp and dusty.

“I can put up with it,” he squeezes your hand, “if it’s for you.”

You smile. He always knows what to say to make you blush. Reluctantly rising, you pull him back to the coop. “We just have to put the new bedding in, then we're done.”

Putting your gloves back on, he tears open the bag as you dump it in. You spread it around, and step back to show Spencer your work. 

“Looks good,” he says, clearly not knowing whether it’s good or bad.

“I had a terrific farmhand.”

Your mom is soon calling you in for dinner. Spencer discusses recipes with your mom and the history of the valley with your dad. You smile to yourself as you see how perfectly he fits into your home.

After dinner, you lay on the dock of the lake at the edge of the property. The stars are clear, more visible than they ever are from your apartment in the city. The wind blows the water around, a subtle sound mixing with the words Spencer whispers in your ear. 

“See that one?” He’s pointing up to a star above you. “You can tell it’s hotter because of the blue color.”

You’re listening, as you always want to hear his ramblings, but only minimally. You’re distracted by the way his hair tousled by the wind, the reflection of the moon in his eyes.

“Do you want to ride the horses tomorrow?” you ask quietly. Nobody can hear you out here. You learned that during your teenage years. Yet, you still whisper. Your words are for Spencer’s ears only. Not even the fish get to know what you exchange. 

“As long as I can stay dry.” 

You sigh, knowing you’ll never live down the incident with the hose. “We have to get those boots dirty so people don’t think you’re a city boy.”

“I like your parents,” he interjects.

“I’m glad. I’m really glad.”

“But next time they should come visit us.”

“Farm life not for you?”

“Only for the week. Then I’ll be ready to get back to the city.”

He really looks beautiful in the moonlight. You’re grateful for him, as you’re more than aware of how far out of his comfort zone he is. He’s never judged you for your upbringing, even if it was vastly different than the daughters of diplomats that populated D.C. and were available for him to pick from. Instead, he was always interested in your past life.

Even if he didn’t enjoy the whole farm thing, Spencer liked seeing your home. He got to see the setting of all the memories you’d told him about. He could put up with the animals if it meant understanding you deeper. He has to admit that he enjoys the peace of the farm. In the middle of nowhere, there are no honking cars or noisy neighbors to cut into the tranquility.

The night settles around you two, and Spencer rubs his thumb along the curves of your fingers. The night is pleasant, and the warmth of your bodies beside each other keeps the cool breeze from chilling you.

“You know,” Spencer interrupts the silence, “I think I could get used to this. Not the chickens or the goats, but... being here with you. I could get used to that.”

“It means a lot. That you’re sharing it with me for a while.” 

“I think your parents would enjoy seeing our apartment in the city. But I’d still come. Anytime you want me here, you know I’ll come.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever be a true country boy, but that’s okay.” You pause to turn your head toward him. “I love that you try.”

Quiet overtakes you again. A shooting star falls from the sky, the bright light slowly fading as it plummets. You wish for more of these moments. Moments where Spencer is with you, exploring each other's lives. 

Spencer wasn’t perfect for this place, and he probably never would be. However, that’s not what mattered. What mattered was that he was trying, coming here just for you. He wanted to understand you, and maybe, in doing that, he might be finding something of himself in the place you grew up.

He could use the peace, you decide. He’s always in the midst of action, mind racing as he works against the clock to save lives. Here, he could take some time to do nothing, to lay by the lake under the blanket of stars.

Spencer feels the same way, but to him, it’s not about the quiet of the farm, but rather the company. He could be anywhere in the world, and would feel the same serenity as he did here, as long as you were with him. And, with all the chickens locked in their coop and the other animals asleep in their pens, he began to enjoy the scenery. Looking at you on the dock, he could almost see a younger version of you fantasizing about the life you had now.

The farm is a place of your past. At 18, you were desperate to get out, dreaming of something beyond the isolated farmhouse at the edge of a dull town. With the addition of Spencer, though, it feels like the future. Not necessarily here, but somewhere that the two of you can lay side by side, getting to know the deepest parts of your souls. 

You were still dreaming on your dock, just this time, you’re not thinking of escaping. Instead, you’re picturing more moments just like this, filled with the peace of the stars above you and the comfort of Spencer’s hand in yours.

author's note: hey everyone! i have no ideas so lmk if any of you might be interested in a second part of this and pls send requests (open for any cm characters). also life update the semester started wednesday and we have a snow day tomorrow yippee!

[mongoosemagazine]

Sick OC x Ghost Drabble

mentions of vomit (repeated), non sexual showering, intense sickness, references to trauma/slight angst? Mentions of cancer (neither Ghost or Leaf)

AN: this is my first post 💕 sorry if there’s any spelling errors or if I’ve forgotten any warnings

Leaf was strong, she had to be, being a women in an extremely male dominated environment meant not only having to pander to men to keep yourself safe and happy but also not letting anyone see any hint of vulnerability. But here we are, in her dorm in a ball on the floor laid pathetically in a puddle her own vomit. She didn’t even know what time it was, hell, she didn’t know what day it was. What she did know is that she was simultaneously hot and cold all over and breathing felt like a her lungs were filled with cotton. She heard footsteps up and down the hall occasionally but her body vehemently rejected any form of movement, that was until the shadow of two hulking feet appeared in the crack between the floor and the door. 

“Leaf. It’s fucking 10 am and your room stinks, get you sorry fucking ass out of bed and into the shower,” Ghost snapped pounding on the door, she felt like he was lobotomising her from the pain she was in. 

She tried to muster a response, a “fuck you” or perhaps even a “help me” if she felt especially pathetic in the wake of her sickness but instead all that escaped her was a prolonged groan. She saw the movement of Simon’s feet, how he considered leaving her to stew and rot in her own misery, if it was 10 am she’d probably been there all night, and he was right. She smelled like crap. But he didn’t leave. He pressed his head to the door and gruffly asked “leaf? Tell me you’re alright or I’m coming in.”

Once again all he heard was a whimper, “leaf, get out of the way from the door if you can…” he rammed his huge shoulder against the door, once. Twice, and then he slammed through the door as the lock snapped for him to discover her. “Fuck…shit-“ his mask did little to ease the smell of the room as he looked down to see her. “Christ almighty this is sad…” he grunted as he lifted her into a sitting position. “Can you talk to me?” He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead, he almost felt bad for her.

“C’mere” he grunted as he lifted her up slowly, she was built, stocky, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least slightly jealous of her build. But nonetheless it wasn’t that difficult for him to place her on his hip, trying to get her to hold onto him, “Lee, I need you to help me out here…” he gripped under her thighs tight as he walked into his dorm. She couldn’t , her body wouldn’t work with her, it felt heavier than it ever had and she weakly looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Talk to me Lee,” he grunted as he sat her on her bed up against the wall, “tell me what’s wrong..” he rubbed her sternum which she very much did not appreciate. 

“Sick.”

“I can see that you muppet.”

He sighed as he put a towel down on his pillow and looked at her, the sick caked in her hair and the obvious fever running through her. “I’m gonna wash you okay? You okay with that?” He held her shoulders trying to get her eyes on him, “cause you’ll feel better all clean…I’m just washing you…I’m not gonna hurt you I know you hate water…” he lifted her to his bathroom “you’ll need to stand okay? It’s a shower…” he put her on her two feet. She struggled to stand independently, her knees buckling. “Hold onto me…” his voice floated through her brain aimlessly as he stripped her down throwing her nasty clothes in his hamper. One of the very few things she had been able to observe in her state was how clean Simon was. Not neat or tidy, but clean, she felt the cold water hit her bare back and curled into his chest with an involuntary cry.

“I know…. I know….” But he still backed her up into the cold stream of water and held her head back to he could submerge her hair. “Cold-“ she whimpered as he adjusted the temperature. “I know lee, but your temperature is so warm we need to try bring it down…work with me please…” she stopped fighting him, let him run his hands through her hair messaging in shampoo in a way that told her he’d looked after women before…perhaps or almost absolutely a ex girlfriend. Maybe current girlfriend. The latter thought made her stomach churn just slightly. He washed out the shampoo fully and had her hold his shoulders as he lathered body wash over her uncomfortably sensitive skin. “I’ll put you in some nice comfy clothes and you can have a good sleep in my bed, good?” He looked up at her from where he was kneeling washing her legs. “I’ll give you paracetamol and some water too okay?”

She nodded the best she could and he washed the suds off her body, slowly turning off the water and wrapping a nice cozy and extremely oversized robe around her. “All cozy?” She hummed in agreement as he carried her to his desk sitting her down. Her grabbed a comb and gently ran through her hair detangling any tiny mats in her dense curly hair. “How do you know…how to…do this…?” She rasped weakly as he gently French braided her hair. 

“My mum was sick when I was younger…used to look after her during chemo…” he said something so crushing so casually and Lee had no clue how to respond. “Learned a lot of stuff” he tied off the braids and lead her to his towel covered bed “so you aren’t sick on my duvet, right?” She nodded weakly and laid down. “Thank you…” he dressed her in his oversized shirt and a pair of his boxers.

“Don’t be fucking daft, Lee, no need for that shit,” she looked up at him as he almost reverently stroked her face. “I’ll be back in a minute, alright?” He pressed his hand to her forehead before getting up and disappearing temporarily before returning with a basin of cold water and a cloth. He placed it on her head before handing her a little cup of pills with some cold water. “Take these. No complaints.” He demanded and she complied. “Are you gonna be okay here while I work for a few hours?” She looked up at him as he clicked his tongue. “Where’s your phone, Lee?” 

“My room…” he sighed and quickly retrieved it and put his number in her emergency contacts. “You call me if you don’t feel well, go to sleep now alright?” She nodded “good girl…” he kissed his fingers through his mask and pressed them to her cheek before tucking her in and leaving.

[rosescarlette]

- Monthly subscription.. -

"Darling.. why is the back of your pants red?"

Zhongli had asked. You got your period... And that's when you realised and we're embarrassed. You tried to cover it up by saying something silly but your husband's senses are quite sharp and he immediately knew you were bleeding by the smell.

"Is that blood?! I- we need to take you to Doctor Baizhu! Immediately!"

"Hey hey it's fine! It's just something I go through every month.."

"EVERY MONTH?!"

You weren't quite surprised by his behaviour. After you knew he was an archon, you came to know that he doesn't understand humans much even after he tried to mingle with his people. He immediately panicked.. he tried to get you to the pharmacy.. but you refused. He didn't understand how bleeding every month is normal. He was seriously very worried and thought it wasn't normal and immediately rushed you to the pharmacy.. (Ofc you changed yourself)

"Mr. Zhongli I'd say she's perfectly fine. Why did you bring her to the pharmacy?"

"How is bleeding every month fine?? It's serious! It's like some chronic disease!"

Baizhu immediately laughed and was very entertained by how zhongli was acting. Zhongli was quite confused on the other hand. Did he ask anything embarrassing? He was pretty sure he had asked reasonable questions.

"Ah.. let me guess. Mr. Zhongli doesn't know about this?"

Baizhu asked you with a smile. He knew immediately when Zhongli had kept asking ridiculous questions, he didn't know much about the human body. You immediately sighed and told Dr. Baizhu that he indeed didn't know. That's when Dr. Baizhu had told Zhongli about how women's periods work. And both of you went back home. When you went back home. Zhongli still had a face where he was very shocked. He immediately started asking questions.

"So.. you suffer for EVERY MONTH?!"

"Yeah that's quite the short way to put the misery."

"PARDON?!"

"Yes? What's so shocking?"

"Darling you better tell me more about this.. I NEED to know more so I can take care of you PROPERLY."

"Eh..? Zhongli it's fine you don't have to.."

"No I HAVE to."

"Alright fine. I can't keep putting up with your stubborn as- *ahem* anyways."

Trust me he did give you quite a death glare to stop you from swearing. After you had told him everything.. he was just flabbergasted. He wanted to know more now. And the part where you mentioned that you get period cramps where it hurts like HELL. He wanted to know what would subside the pain and how to ease your uneasiness.

When you were removing your bedsheets to clean them. He immediately stopped you.

"Zhongli.. what are you doing now?"

"I want to take care of you. Please... I can't see you in pain."

"Uh I am fine now.. Can I do some work?"

He immediately said "No."

"Hey that's not fair! I want to do some work too!"

"Darling just rest-"

And when you keep protesting he doesn't mind at all by keeping the bedsheets aside and he immediately picks you up in a bridal style. You immediately flushed.

"H-HEY! PUT ME DOWN!!"

"No."

He kept you in his bedroom where you can sleep for the time being. You can't do anything.. he's stubborn and will just use his strength to stop you from doing anything.

You sighed and decided to take a rest in his bedroom after all it was cozy and neat and of course expensive.

In the time you slept... Zhongli had changed the bedsheets of your bedroom, did the laundry, made your bedroom very cozy. He was trying his level best of the knowledge he had to make sure you don't feel any pain or discomfort. He even organised your room so that things would be a little easier for you. When you woke up he was making some tea which soothes the pain of period cramps. Honestly you didn't know how to react.. he had quite a serious face while he was doing all these things. You decided to go to your bedroom.

When you got to your bedroom you were surprised that everything was neat and organised. EVERYTHING. The room itself was tidy. You immediately went to ask him what he was doing and he replied with a smile and gave you a cup of tea.

"Drink it.. it soothes the pain of period cramps my dear."

"Thanks.. and why did you clean my room? You know you didn't have to CLEAN everything in the room.."

"If it was for you. I'd do it. I'd do anything for you just to be happy."

"Oh silly zhongli."

He absolutely didn't mind. He would love to do anything for you. ANYTHING. And.. of your period pains were worse at night.. be sure to tell him! He would immediately go get a heating pad and something to eat, to replenish your lost energy of course. And if you want him to hug you while you are asleep just speak so and it's done. He would absolutely love to have you in his arms. He's quite a big spoon so expect your position to be as a teddy bear compared to him.

He also noticed your pattern of mood swings. And he knows quickly to deal with them. You don't know how this guy is managing you at this point. Because you wouldn't even handle yourself.

"Dear I am going to get some stuff do you want anything?"

"Just ice cream and some chocolates please!"

"Of course."

He'd get everything more than it was needed because he knows how unpredictable you get with food. And he makes special dishes that help you get energy and your strength back.

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

Am sorry for not posting in a while :'( my mental health and my life at my house wasn't quite good. I am very Grateful for all of you trying to be patient with me! :D

[stoopidpigeonxx]

Hero NSFW alphabet?

(I agree w you, we need more hero smut out there ;w;)

THANK YOU SM ANON FINNAAAALLLY MY FIRST HERO REQUEST!!!! yes I can do that :-3 (I had to find a template bro it was so annoying ;-;)

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Hero is a god at aftercare. It's part of his gentle personality and overall sweet-boy thing he's got going on. Like, seriously, he refuses to do anything but aftercare for the next hour after you two finish. Massages, food and water, cleaning up with you, or just sleeping, he'll do it.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves every single part of you equally, but if he had to choose, your face. Watching your expressions while he drives into you gives him more pleasure than he could ever describe. He also just.. loves how gorgeous you look during it, like a sweat covered, flushed face angel.

Despite being a charmer, I don't think he really has a favorite part of himself. Maybe his dick, for making you feel good, but probably more likely, his hands. They can make you feel just as good, and he likes the look of your hand holding his. (Plus, his hand has done him many 'favors' iykwim..)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Doesn't cum inside unless you're trying for a baby. He has condoms on hand most of the time, but if there's a time where he doesn't have one, he'll pull out and jerk off till he comes on your stomach. He doesn't cum tons, but he does have a couple of good loads in him. It's the thin watery kind. (Eugh that.. grossed me out to write)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Has jerked off to a fantasy about fucking you outside while you and him are hanging out with the others, but end up getting separated. He feels super ashamed by it, since he would never put his friends in that situation, but it's gotten him off more times then he can count. Another thing.. He'd never admit this, but he had stolen your panties once and jacked off with them. He was mortified and cleaned them afterwards as if nothing ever happened.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I'm sure he and Mari messed around when they were teenagers, but never got to that point, so body count wise, not experienced at all. However.. he's a doctor. He knows his way around someone's body. So he won't be bad at pleasuring you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. Simple, sweet, and feels the most intimate to him, since he's looking at you the entire time. His second favorite is cowgirl. Specifically you riding him while he lays down and holds your hands to steady you. He can still look at you, but you have a little more control over how much you get.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He tries to be serious, he really does.. but sex is a process that has a lot of errors, so it's hard to be completely serious. He'll laugh, he'll joke. It's natural, since he's always a bit nervous.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I'd like to think he's decently groomed. He takes care of himself appearance wise, so he'll do the same for his downstairs region. He doesn't do anything fancy, like, patterns or something, but he keeps it shaved and clean, neat and tidy. :-)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

huuuuuge sap. Total romantic. I'm talking kisses all over, eye contact, praising, all that shit. He's actually so charming it's unfair. Like, be rough, dude!

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't do it very often, since he's a little embarrassed about it, but if he's particularly pent up and has some time to himself, he will. He doesn't watch porn or anything, he'll probably most likely get off to the memory of past sexual experiences he's had with you (or fantasies involving you.)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He's honestly mostly vanilla, but he probably has a praise kink. Being called a good boy while he fucks you gets him riled up for sure. Or just.. you telling him how good of a job he's doing. Even out of sex, you randomly praising him for something he does sends shivers down his spine.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bedroom, obviously. Anywhere else is too risky to him (even if you're alone) but occasionally if he gets too impatient, he'll just have you on the couch, or hell, even in the damn hallway. But he'll try his best to get you into the bedroom before he starts going at it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You initiating it. Basically, when you're horny, he's horny. It could be a subtle teasing flirt or a spicy text from you, he's raring to go! Although occasionally you could do something purely innocent and it would still get him all hot and bothered.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that could hurt you. Sex is supposed to be about making eachother feel good, and if you don't feel good, then he isn't doing it right. If you encourage him to be a little rougher, he'll try his best, but he won't do anything like slapping you or something like that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

If he could eat you out as a job he would work overtime. He LOVES it. And he's good at it, too. His head game is insane. He doesn't opt for blowjobs, but if you want to give him one, he's down. (He definitely whines like a bitch the entire time.)

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He likes to keep it slow and gentle to make it intimate. He'll go a bit faster when he's getting close. Sometimes though, he's got a lot of energy or just really needed to fuck you, he'll go a little faster and harder. Instantly apologizes for it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not his thing. He likes a long experience with you, not a quick fuck for some temporary pleasure. He wants it to last a long time, and quickies aren't intimate enough for him.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

If you want to try something, he'll do research on it and then be willing to try with you. But he doesn't take risks on his own. He'd much rather know what you would like, not assume.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He's fit. He can go a few rounds. I'd say 5 is his limit, because that's when he starts to get dizzy from the overstimulation. And for overall round lasting, maybe 10-20 minutes. A decently long time.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he doesn't really use them, no. But he's down to use your own on you and/or watch you use them yourself. (And he wouldn't say no if you wanted to try using them on him.)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn't tease often, but every once in a while he can't help himself. It's in his nature, really. Plus, you look adorable when you go all red in the face!

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

ooooh. This is a good one. Soft moaner. Breathy, gentle sounding, kinda quiet. He's a panter too. AND. AAAND. HE WHIMPERS. YOUR HONOR HE'S A WHIMPERER. He does it when he's feeling reaaaaally good, so it's a good sign, and omfg they're so cute.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's a SWEET TALKER. OH MY GOD. I will die on the hill that is Hero being such a gentle man when it comes to dirty talk. "You're beautiful.." "Just like that, honey.. my beautiful girl/boy.." "You're making me feel so good."

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He's a solid 6 1/2 inches. A good size. Same color as his skin, pinkish-red tip, circumsized (his parents insisted) overall, he has a very pretty dick. Like you just wanna wrap a bow around it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He's not thinking about sex 24/7, but it does cross his mind every once in a while, especially if you and him are doing it frequently. It's hard for him NOT to think about it, honestly.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn't fall asleep unless you fall asleep together. He REFUSES to pass out before you're properly taken care of, and then he'll doze off with you in his arms. <3

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Study session||Charles Leclerc xGender neutral!adhd!reader

Summary — after hours of trying to study and failing Charles swoops in and helps you get through it.

Word count—713

A/n I used both fem!reader male!reader and gn!reader tags

You sat at your desk, staring blankly at the pages of your textbook. Your notes were scattered in disorganized piles, highlighters of every color rolling around your workspace, but none of it was helping. you flipped the same page for the third time, but the words swam before your eyes, refusing to sink in. Your leg bounces uncontrollably under the desk, and your fingers tapped against the edge of the chair as your mind wandered.

What was I even trying to study again?

you reached for your phone out of habit, scrolling through social media for a brief escape. The timer she’d set to keep you on track went off, startling you, and you groaned in frustration. Fifteen minutes gone, and you’ve done absolutely nothing.

Charles walked in just as you buried your face in your hands, muttering under your breath. He stopped in his tracks, taking in the scene—the mess of papers, your slumped posture, and the tension radiating off you. He set his water bottle down on the counter and approached you cautiously, his footsteps soft against the floor.

“Amour,” he said gently, his voice full of concern. “What’s going on?”

you didn't lift your head. “I can’t do this, Charles. I’ve been sitting here for hours, and I’ve made zero progress. My brain just doesn’t work like this.”

He crouched beside your chair, tilting his head to meet your eyes. “What do you mean?”

Y/N sighed, dropping your hands to your lap. “I can’t stay focused. I read the same thing over and over, and it still doesn’t stick. Then I get frustrated, and I just give up. It’s like my brain wants to do anything but study. And the exam is so close… I’m panicking.”

Charles frowned, his heart aching for you. He hated seeing you so stressed, especially when he knew how hard you were trying. “Okay,” he said after a moment, his tone calm and steady. “Let’s take a breath. First, you’re not stupid, and you’re not hopeless. You just need a different way to study. I think I can help.”

you looked at him skeptically. “You? You want to help me study?”

“Yes,” he said with a confident smile. “I’m good under pressure, remember? And I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Before you could protest, Charles stood up and started tidying your desk, stacking your notes into neat piles and pushing the random highlighters aside. Then, he grabbed a set of flashcards from your stack of materials and pulled your chair closer to the desk so you faced him.

“Alright, that’s the plan,” he said, sitting down across from you. “We’re going to break this down into small chunks. You answer five questions, and then we take a two-minute break. During the break, you can ask me anything you want—about racing, my worst crashes, my favorite tracks. Whatever keeps you motivated. Deal?”

Y/N hesitated, your fingers twisting together nervously. “I don’t know, Charles. What if I still can’t focus?”

He reached out, taking your hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Then we’ll find another way. But we’ll do it together. You’re not alone in this, Y/N.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but this time it wasn’t from anxiety. you nodded slowly. “Okay. Let’s try it.”

They started with the flashcards, and true to his word, Charles kept the energy light and encouraging. When you struggled to answer a question, he didn’t let you spiral into frustration. Instead, he’d rephrase it, guiding you to the answer without making you feel overwhelmed.

“See? You knew that one,” he said with a proud smile when you got the third question right.

“Only because you practically spoon-fed me the answer,” youshot back with a teasing smile.

“Details,” he said with a playful shrug. “The important thing is that you’re learning.”

When they reached the end of the first set, he held up his hands. “Break time! Alright, your turn. Ask me anything.”

Y/N leaned back in your chair, grinning for the first time that day. “Okay, fine. What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you during a race?”

Charles groaned dramatically, covering his face with his hands. “Ah, that’s not fair! You know my ego will never recover.”

[mushimatsu]

choromatsu handwriting post

compiled all of choromatsus handwriting that i could find bc i love him

i realize these were all made by different teams and have different sources (anime/games/webkuji/etc) but there are some similarities between them all and i think its cute. i'll try to make it easier for ppl that cannot read japanese too

(note: some of these may or may not be valid criticisms, im not a native japanese speaker but i got my bachelors in japanese. idk if this means anything to anyone im just pointing out things that im noticing and maybe it will be interesting to you. if you notice anything else interesting feel free to add)

commonalities i noticed:

sometimes will combine multiple character strokes into one (normal thing to do, i've seen some native speakers do this)

with a few exceptions (mt takao for some reason), generally neat handwriting. proper and easy to read. not too big, not too small, not over stylized, but not messy either. very choromatsu

letter in s1e24

very nice handwriting, legible and neat. this is closest to how i think i would picture his handwriting. i know that the staff across different ososan things probably don't care too deeply about keeping minute handwriting details consistent and that's why they're all gonna look different but i like this one best for him.

new years cards in s2e13

very cute, love the stupid drawing of himself. everything very nice and tidy. to me these characters look a much curlier and rounder than the ones in the letter.

for both the letter and the new years cards it looks like he was careful to properly write out all the strokes of the kanji, even for more complicated ones like 緊張 and 就職. we see in mt takao that his handwriting gets a LOT messier. i know the real reason is because it was probably different animators that did his handwriting, but i'm choosing to believe that in canon it's because both of these are more fancy/formal letters addressed to people, whereas the trip guide is just for him and his brothers and doesn't necessarily need to look nice.

also i adore his tendency to add little drawings to things, like this and the mt takao guide he's everything

trip guide from mt. takao s3e8. his handwriting here, for some reason, is exceptionally bad especially compared to everything else. he writes like a little kid and i love his shitty little drawings. he's so cute.

my teachers would always correct my kanji down to the tiniest strokes, if i wrote like this is class i would get scolded so bad. you can see him combining his strokes together for 記念撮影, this will continue for the other pictures too. cute detail imo

the 昼 in 昼食 is definitely written wrong, but the second kanji 食 might be a little nitpicky. technically that bottom part is three different strokes, not two crossed over each other

more of him combining the strokes together. i wouldn't necessarily say that's wrong, since i've seen people do that before; it's probably just a habit that happens over time. i do it in english too

HOWEVER, he did write the 日 radical in 撮影 wrong here. previously, i thought he was just combining strokes again so that it looked like three lines instead of two (note 3 and 4 are two parallel lines, he just didn't lift his pen up)

but when you look at this it's clear that he very much did write three lines this time. that's the wrong radical

anyway

another example of him writing a two stroke character with just one. again, this is fine, ive seen people write their characters like this. however it looks bad when he does it here

i love how he wrote "campfire" i love how for some reason he didn't keep the letter sizing consistent or straight. also his little campfire drawing

１９時

キャンプ

ファイヤー

also there's two ways to write そ, its just a matter of choice its not important but he writes it the second way. and he messed up a kanji again

these next ones are maybe less canon cause they're not from the show itself

Airport Matsu

very tidy, combines a couple strokes together. both 松 (matsu) characters look like he combines the last two strokes together instead of writing them as two separate ones

and he does a similar thing with the right half of 野 in Matsuno

nostalgic moments webkuji

this one he writes every stroke and doesn't combine them and that's probably because different people worked on these and the tiny details like this don't matter to anyone but me. or you could say that he wrote a little neater in high school and started simplifying things as he got older.

Rock School

he drew himself again lol

i think his handwriting looks very good here actually. idk how to describe it but i like when handwriting looks like this specific way in japanese. i've seen other people that have handwriting like this and it just looks so nice. like the characters seem to vary in size, but somehow it makes it a little easier to read imo?

like in the first bullet point (underlined in yellow), the す in 多すぎる is a little big, but like it looks nice. in the second bullet point (blue), the の in 世の中 is slightly smaller but it emphasizes the kanji on either side of it. the stroke on the side of the か characters are written a little longer than usual (red). like it just looks nice, everything is shaped really nice and whenever i see people that have this handwriting i always try to emulate it lol

Neetpro

this one is a bit messier than the others. the way he wrote チョロ just doesn't look as nice as the way he wrote it in airport matsu and nostalgic moments. the way the て is written is more curved compared to the others. also the 界 kanji (blue) is written in a way that looks weird to me, and kara from this same set also writes the kanji that way so i think the same person might have written all of them lol

also interesting is that he writes き differently in this one

i was told by one of my professors that you're supposed to write さ and き with the upper and lower parts disconnected when writing by hand. it's only in text that they're connected. but i've still seen some people write them in the connected way

in all the other examples, choromatsu doesn't write them connected like that, just this one.

sukiya app

my lovely boy and his nonsense words and lies. the handwriting here comes off as very cutesy to me, at least compared to the others. some of the ways he writes, especially any box-like shape, seems round in a way. he also connects the right half of 野 again.

overall writes very neatly, altho a lot of the kanji here seems like its very big on the top and smaller on the bottom, and a lot of the letters seem more rounded. all the other examples just feel like the writing is a bit more angular, with the exception of the new years cards.

extra: coloring book

the way he wrote his name here is messier than the other examples. i like that he added little commentary on his own coloring though ("looks good!" "the tail was black too i believe") maybe he colored this with a paintbrush????? the strokes look as if he was trying to write quickly with a brush as if it was a pen. so maybe that's why its a little messier

anyway thanks for reading. i love choromatsu

[toadettely]

Skill & Spill: Coffee Shop AU

I've been awfully quiet lately so let me just drop some notes for my Coffee Shop AU (which I call Skill & Spill for now. The Cafe is called "King's Roast" :3)

King of Soph and Tcvern3 centric cuz I can and love them ^-^

• Vernias and Brent work there and Eevee and Nick are regular costumers

• Eevee and Nick are friends already and hang out together a lot

• Brent sometimes takes night shifts (no one likes to take them because it's boring but Brent doesn't mind and it fits his schedule + it's chill and kinda free money)

• plus the cafe has like very good free wifi!! (Thanks to him)

• Brent and Vernias always biker when they work together.

• Brent always looks sleep-deprived while Vernias looks ready to yap to the costumers with a bright smile that is kinda contagious and lights up the entire cafe

• Brent is literally the CEO of eyerolls (idk why, he just seems always annoyed without intending to)

• Nick always enters the shop like he owns it and makes his presence known instanly if Vern and / or Brent are working ("HELLO FELLAS"😎🤗)

• Nick literally orders the same drink all the time (and it is one that Vernias himself made up for the Menu)

•^ Brent fucking despises it and makes it known all the time as he hates on it specifically

• Sophist and Brent play marvel rivals together online/see each other often in online games, but don't know each other irl (they see each other in the cafe but don't know they are the person they play with online. I stole this idea from the anon that send the ask because I LOVE it!! all credit to you anon!! This inspired a lot of this fic and King of Soph's relationship in it)

•^ I have so much to add to this but to put it short: Brent is a strategic try-hard and Eevee plays chaotically risky but they kinda are a very strong duo - but also often share one braincell (which is noticeable in the game-chats and sometimes when they do stupid / random stuff in-game)

• Sophist has a fav cake he orders often

• They are allowed to take leftovers home because the Cafe never throws stuff away and Vern gifts some baked goods/cake etc. to friends

• After Brent and Sophist become friends irl, Brent always takes leftovers from Sophist' fav cake home to give it to him (love language? Also huge contribution to Sophist catching feelings for Brent)

•^ spending time with Brent when they become friends irl helps Sophist' mental health significantly (ref to canon because I can)

• Brent loves to keep things neat and tidy in the cafe

• Vernias hates cleaning up but he loves organising/decorating stuff

• there is a silly pick up line on every cup Vern hands to Nick

• Eevee has an unhealthy caffeine intake (Vern and Brent are concerned) + his nightly coffees become more frequent over time (maybe also to see Brent)

• Vern doing art on the cappuccinos/latte with lots of care and love (Brent standing next to him and, rolling his eyes, telling him to "take your time, dude.")

• Nick's tip are very generous

•^ Vern liked it at first but when he notices that Nick is doing it on purpose so he can see, Vern starts to plafully roll his eyes whenever he tips.

• Brent being very interested in technology has resulted in him taking care of anything in regards to it in the cafe. The others often would be lost without him. Brent wonders how they managed anything before.

• Brent unironically loves the smell of freshly ground coffee beans

• Vern is responsible for the chalkboard menu (very colourful with some cute doodles like stars and cakes and coffee)

• Vern supports local artists as he suggested to hang some of their Art on the walls of the shop.