#surprise day off in the middle of the week

[er1nne]

rafe hates when you buy things without using his card

(do not copy or plagarize, original work) The Range Rover hummed quietly, its blacked-out interior wrapping you and Rafe in a cocoon of shadows and muted streetlights. It had been his idea to take you for a nail day—completely unprompted but not surprising. Rafe had a way of knowing when you needed a little spoiling, especially after the week you’d had. The air smelled like his cologne, something expensive and sharp, mixing with the faint scent of leather from the seats. You were reclined comfortably with both legs stretched out, your freshly painted white toes wiggling lazily as you scrolled through your phone.

Rafe sat in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh. His thumb stroked absentminded circles into your skin while his sharp blue eyes flicked toward the darkened street ahead. Traffic was crawling, a sea of red taillights stretching endlessly ahead. Rafe didn’t seem too bothered, one hand resting on the wheel while the other stayed on your thigh. His thumb moved in slow, hypnotic circles against your skin, his blue eyes flicking between the road and the glow of your phone screen. He was calm—you liked him this way.

“What’s got you so quiet, huh?” His voice broke the silence, smooth but with an edge that always demanded your attention.

“Just trying to check out before everything sells out,” you mumbled, barely glancing up. You were busy, furiously tapping away as you finalized your cart. The latest House of CB drop was a battlefield, and you weren’t about to lose.

“Lemme see.” He leaned closer, his sharp gaze cutting toward your screen. When he caught sight of the digits you were typing, his brows furrowed, his jaw tightening. “Wait, is that your card?”

You paused, immediately bracing for what was coming. “Yeah? Why?”

Rafe let out a short, irritated laugh, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You have all of my cards saved to your phone, and you’re using your own card? What the hell for?”

“It’s not a big deal, Rafe.” You kept your voice calm, like you weren’t trying to spark an argument in the middle of what was such a nice day. “It’s not like I can’t afford it.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a humorless smirk. “Afford it?” he repeated, voice tinged with a certain tone to it. “Sweetheart, I literally pay for your life. Why do you even have a card? For decoration?”

You glared at him, but the faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips betrayed you. “Rafe—”

“No, seriously,” he cut in, shaking his head as if the idea itself was absurd. “What are you holding onto that thing for? Just in case I drop dead tomorrow and you suddenly need it?”

You huffed an air of annoyance as a pout covered your slightly glossed lips and starred out the car window. The car filled with an almost unbearable silence. His hand, which had been rubbing your thigh, went still.

He turned to glance at you a few times before looking back at the road, the corner of his mouth twitching with a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “Afford-” he repeated again slightly scoffing, voice low and slow, like he was trying to decide if you were messing with him. “Do you even hear yourself?”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms leaning slightly closer to his natural warmth. “It’s not that much.”

“To you. To me, that’s pocket change.” His fingers drummed a little harder against the steering wheel now, a restless energy creeping into his movements more obvious than ever.

“Rafe,” you started to whine, but he cut you off, shaking his head.

“Nah. Don’t start.” He turned fully to face you now, his hand lifting to cup your jaw, gently but firmly enough that you couldn’t look away. “Why do you always make this a thing? Is it so hard to let me take care of you? That’s why I’m here. To take care of you. You’re supposed to let me.”

Your resolve faltered under his intense gaze. He wasn’t just irritated—he was hurt. His words were a reminder, the same ones he’d given you before. Rafe wasn’t just possessive for the sake of it—he hated seeing you stress over anything, especially when he had the means to give you whatever you needed, whenever you wanted it. He didn’t want you holding onto burdens you didn’t have to carry. He’d told you before how it made him feel when you refused to lean on him, how he hated the idea of you ever struggling when he had the means to make your life easier. Rafe always told you how much he loved taking care of you, he felt proud to. Anything you ever want, he would give you, plus more.

“I’m not helpless,” you said softly, and it sounded weak even to your own ears.

“Did I say that you were?” he shot back immediately, his sharp blue eyes flicking from the road to meet yours. There was no trace of anger in his voice, just a steady, unyielding determination. “I know what you’re capable of. But you don’t have to do it all alone anymore.”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his gaze softening, though his tone stayed firm. “I’ve got you. I’m right here. You’re mine, remember? So stop making it harder than it needs to be. Let me do my job.”

Even while navigating the slow-moving traffic, his focus on you didn’t waver. His eyes flicked back to yours, holding them for just a second longer than he should have, but long enough to make your heart skip a beat. You felt the weight of his words settle over you, the quiet conviction in his voice leaving no room for argument.

“Rafe…” you started. You stared at him for a long moment before finally relenting, handing over your phone with a quiet sigh. “Fine. Just this once.”

He smirked, already deleting your card details and replacing them with his own Amex Black information. The confirmation dinged almost immediately, and he handed the phone back to you, smug satisfaction written all over his face. “There. Easy. Now you’ve got your shit, and I’ve got my peace of mind.”

“Thank you,” you muttered, cheeks warming as you avoided his eyes.

Rafe tilted your chin up, his fingers brushing against your jaw as he pressed a lingering kiss to your lips. “Don’t thank me, baby. Just stop making this harder than it has to be. Just let me take care of you?” A small pout covered your slighly glossed lips as you responded to him in a small voice, "Okay."

“That’s my girl,” He smiled and leaned back in his seat, hand returning to your thigh as he glanced toward the street, his usual sharp focus slipping back into place.

You smiled slightly, your frustration melting away as you leaned into him. Because no matter how stubborn you could be, you both knew he’d always win in the end. And deep down, you didn’t mind.

[marzipanandminutiae]

would you have any reading suggestions to learn more about the earrings are evil era??? I've never heard of that aspect of fashion history and I am curious

Oh man, it was wild

you saw the first stirrings of it in the 1890s, when you started to get (mostly white and middle-to-upper-class) proto-feminists arguing that ear piercing was barbaric- keep an eye on the racist undertones there; they will come up again-and forcing women to suffer for fashion. I cannot emphasize enough that, until that point, ear piercing had been pretty much normal for this race/class/gender group. For centuries. You see criticism of the practice here and there, but nothing that really stuck.

The objections slowly increased until roughly the mid-1920s, when everything reached a tipping point and pierced ears became largely taboo for most white Americans and Brits of northern/western European descent. If that sounds HIGHLY specific, it is- communities from southern and sometimes eastern Europe retained cultural practices of ear piercing, to the point where it was often used as a point against them by mainstream society. It was also associated with Latino people, Black people, and the Romani, which. Yeah. I don't need to tell you how that went down.

It also developed associations with sexual immorality and/or backwards thinking. One newspaper letter I read came from a teen girl in the 1940s, wondering why she shouldn't pierce her ears if her very respectable grandmother had piercings. The response was something like "well, they did all sorts of things in the Bad Old Days that we shouldn't do now." True in many ways, or course, but...piercing your ears? That's the hill culture decided to die on as far as antiquated behavior that we should leave behind? Apparently yes.

Earrings themselves never went out of style, which led to the birth of clip-ons and screwbacks. Ironic that the "don't surfer for fashion" crowd was so eager to embrace screwing tiny vices onto your ears, but there we are. My own mother (born 1953) remembers her mother (born 1926) always taking off her screwback earrings immediately after getting home from a party, literally in the foyer of their house the second the door shut. There had been adaptations for unpierced ears before- Little Women, published in 1868, describes Meg March hanging earrings from a flesh-colored silk ribbon tied around the base of her ear -but they'd never caught on like this before.

However, the pendulum was soon to swing back. After just 40 years of Piercing Panic, in the 1960s, girls began piercing their ears again in droves. As piercing moved from the slumber party or summer camp back to the professional jewelers whose families had been early professional piercers in the 19th century- and to befuddled doctors who had no idea what they were doing yet still received piercing requests -cultural commentators had no idea what to make of it. Some decried the new trend while most took an air of bemused neutrality. My personal favorite article expressed surprise that "Space Age misses" were adopting these "Victorian traditions."

(In 1965, my grandmother took Mom to the anesthesiologist down the street who was offering to pierce his young daughter's friends gratis, and got it done. My grandfather had strongly disapproved of the idea, but in the end it took him a week to notice the new earrings.)

As to sources...honestly, I've just gone to Google Books, specified a time frame, and typed in "ear piercing," "pierced ears," "pierce ears," etc. Tons of primary sources at your fingertips, though I'm not always great about documenting or saving what I find. There's not much written about it formally, I've found- no books or scholarly studies. It may just be too close in history to attract much academic attention, though I find it fascinating.

This little blip where something that's been normal for most of western history suddenly became taboo for a hot second.

Also my ear piercings just turned 20 five days ago, commemorating the date that I was taken with much ceremony to Piercing Pagoda (and that horrible gun; it's a wonder I didn't get keloids) to get me out from underfoot while the Thanksgiving feast was being made. Grandma got hers pierced on the same day, at age 78. Happy Birthday, Marzi's ear piercings!

[cxffecoupx]

love languages: jeon wonwoo

jeon wonwoo x reader fluff warnings: mentions of food, mentions of being attacked while playing games wc: 651 author's notes: will forever support the gamer!wonwoo agenda. i actually wanna play games with him and seungcheol😔. also, trying to finish posting this series for the '96 line before i change my theme for a winter event (i hope i get done w jihoon's tomorrow.) hope you like it!

acts of service:-

wonwoo loves silently. he might not always say it out loud (but mind you, he does — he does when he feels like his heart will explode if he doesn't say it) but he expresses it in ways that melts your heart. he shows his love when he kisses you on your forehead when you sleep in on day-offs, before heading to make you breakfast (well, attempting to). he shows his love when he stops you in the middle on your walk to tie your shoelaces, or pulls you across him so he's the one walking towards the road-side. he shows his love by restocking all your favourite candies and drinks and fruits when they're over, or when you're nearing your shark week. it's his love in the way he makes you an album of all the pics of you he's taken while you weren't noticing. he doesn't say it all out, but you can see it in the efforts he puts in for you, and that's more than enough for you.

"we might need to go grocery shopping; we're out of banana milk..." your voice traces off as you open the fridge and notice a tray filled with the item you just mentioned. wonwoo hugs you from the back as he nuzzles into your neck, "i knew you'd say that, so i bought them the other day itself."

quality time:-

another way wonwoo expresses love is by trying to be with you as much as he can. weekends are days for you both to relax together, even if that means you're on the opposite sides of the couch, one reading a book and one watching videos on their phone. he lovingly indulges in your routines — silently accepting his fate when you drag him for skincare, humming songs to keep you company as you clean up the kitchen, massaging your head on wash days. when he's playing games and you're somewhere around, he instinctively pulls you into his lap, saying something along the lines of, "you help me play better." so now you're on his lap, playing with and tugging at his hair while he wins games.

wonwoo silently watches you as you gather a few things and get ready for your bath. you turn around to look at him, "hey, i'm going to take a bath." he smirks before standing up. "mind if i join?"

playing video games together:-

if wonwoo is asked, 'what are the two things he loves the most?' he'd probably reply with 1) games, and 2) you. so even though playing games together comes under quality time, it's so special to wonwoo; it's like his own multiverse of madness. It was a surprise to him, when you'd first told him you were interested. he almost jumped from joy when he actually processed it. from then on, it was a joint project to help you clear the levels; sometimes he wouldn't even let you play because 'its too difficult, I'll do this for you.' always plays on your team because he wants to be there for you when you need help, but once he understood that you're good on your own, you started competing against each other (you winning over him ended up turning him on, and you had to deal with it, but that's a story for another time). he also gives your characters names that match with his — GAM3 BO1 and GAM3 G1RL (will get ready to physically fight anyone who's already taken the name).

"wonwoo!! i'm being attacked!" you yell at the top of your voice. wonwoo rushes his character over to where you were getting attacked and uses his special skill, the shield (one he bought especially for you), to help you regain health and get into form. but just as you begin to play, wonwoo says: "i'll complete this level for you, love. you just sit back and look pretty."

[zaczenemiji]

Just Keep Swimming (And Complaining)

Tabito Karasu x Reader

Synopsis: Karasu faces his fear of swimming with the help of his ever-loving girlfriend.

Word Count: 1.3k

Tabito stood at the edge, arms crossed, glaring at the water as though it had personally insulted him.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” he muttered.

“Because you love me,” you replied cheerfully, tugging gently on his wrist. “And because I’m right. You never know when you might need to swim. Not knowing how to could literally kill you one day.”

“I don’t plan on swimming in the middle of nowhere,” he argued, but there was a faint waver in his tone—just enough to tell you he’d already lost the battle.

“Life doesn’t ask for permission, Tabito,” you said, stepping into the pool first and turning to look at him with a patient smile. “Come on, it’s just water. You trust me, don’t you?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might storm off. But then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he muttered something about how you were the only person he’d ever let drag him into something so ridiculous.

Slowly, reluctantly, he stepped into the water.

“Alright,” you said, standing chest-deep in the water, your arms outstretched. “First, we’re going to work on floating. I’ll hold you up, so don’t freak out.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Floating? What am I, a piece of driftwood?”

“It’s not that complicated,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Trust me.”

“I’d trust you a lot more if this wasn’t so—” He cut himself off with a sigh, his sharp tongue softening in the face of your expectant gaze. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

You guided him to lie back, your hands steadying him as his body stiffened like a board.

“Relax,” you said, your voice calm and soothing. “The water will hold you up, but only if you let it. Don’t fight it.”

“I don’t do relaxed,” he muttered, but his breathing slowed as your hands gently supported his back and shoulders.

The closeness made your cheeks warm, but you pushed the thought aside. “Pretend this is just another chemical reaction,” you teased. “A balance of forces. You have to trust the process.”

“I hate how that makes sense,” he muttered, but he let out a slow breath, his body softening slightly.

“See?” you said with a smile. “You’re doing it.”

The next few days were filled with progress and complaints in equal measure.

“Stop kicking like that,” you said, watching as Karasu flailed awkwardly in the shallow end.

“This feels wrong,” he snapped, his frustration evident.

“You’re overthinking it,” you said, wading closer. “Here, let me show you.”

You stood behind him, your hands lightly guiding his legs into the proper motion. His sharp intake of breath didn’t escape your notice, and you smirked. “Relax, babe. I’m not going to let you drown.”

“Easy for you to say,” he muttered, but he followed your instructions, his movements becoming smoother under your guidance.

“That’s better,” you said, stepping back slightly to give him space. “Now try again.”

He kicked his legs properly this time, propelling himself forward with surprising efficiency.

“See? You’re a natural,” you teased.

“I’m just good at everything,” he shot back, but the faint smirk on his face betrayed his pride.

By the fourth day, Karasu was starting to get the hang of it. You worked on teaching him how to tread water, standing close enough to catch him if he faltered.

“Keep your arms moving like this,” you said, demonstrating the circular motion. “And your legs need to kick just enough to keep you up. Don’t panic if you feel like you’re sinking.”

He mimicked your movements, his gaze flickering to you every few seconds as if to make sure you were still there.

“You’re doing fine,” you said, moving closer as his balance wavered. “I’ve got you, okay? Just keep going.”

His hands brushed against your arms as he steadied himself, the contact sending a spark of warmth through you. “If this were anyone else,” he said quietly, “I wouldn’t have even tried this.”

By the end of the week, Karasu was swimming laps across the pool surprisingly. He still muttered complaints here and there, but his confidence had grown noticeably.

As he climbed out of the water one evening, shaking droplets from his dark hair, he turned to you with a rare, genuine smile. “I guess this wasn’t a complete waste of time.”

“High praise coming from you,” you teased, tossing him a towel.

He caught it with a smirk, draping it around his shoulders. “If I ever survive a shipwreck, it’ll be because of you.”

“And if you don’t survive,” you said with mock seriousness, “I’ll be very disappointed.”

Karasu laughed—a low, warm sound that made your heart flutter. He reached out, pulling you closer with a damp arm around your shoulders.

“You’re lucky I like you,” he said, his voice soft but teasing. “Anyone else, and I’d have walked away on day one.”

“And you’re lucky I love you,” you replied, leaning into him. “Because anyone else would’ve given up on teaching you.”

He laughed again, pressing a light kiss to your temple. “Thanks,” he said after a moment, his tone quieter, more serious. “For making me do this. For always looking out for me.”

You smiled, wrapping an arm around his waist, “Always, Tabito. You can count on me.”

The two of you sat side by side on the edge of the pool, feet lazily swaying in the water. Karasu leaned back on his hands, sharp blue eyes fixed on the ripples your toes created.

“You know,” you said casually, leaning closer to bump his shoulder, “Now that you can swim, we should totally plan a trip to the beach.”

Karasu’s head snapped toward you, an incredulous expression plastered across his face, “The beach? Are you out of your mind?”

You laughed at his reaction, unable to help yourself, “What? It’ll be fun! Sand, sun, waves… you showing off your new swimming skills.”

He scoffed, sitting upright and giving you a pointed glare, “The only thing I’d be showing off is my patience running out. Sand everywhere, loud kids, screaming seagulls? Sounds like a nightmare.”

Karasu remained stubbornly unmoved as you continued your campaign for a beach trip. The two of you were now walking home and despite your best efforts, he’d shot down every single reason you gave.

“Oh, come on,” you teased, nudging him. “You can’t avoid water forever. Besides…” You grinned, your tone turning playfully smug.

“If we went to the beach, I’d finally get to wear a real bathing suit. You know, not the conservative ones we use for school.”

Karasu blinked, his steps faltering for the briefest second, “…A real bathing suit?”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, the grin on your face widening.

“Yeah. Something cute, maybe even… revealing. Not that I’d wear anything too flashy, but still…” You trailed off, shrugging casually. “Guess you’ll never get to see that, though.”

His eyes narrowed, clearly trying to assess whether you were serious. “You’re bluffing,” he said, though his tone had lost some of its usual confidence.

“Am I?” you shot back, enjoying how his resolve was visibly wavering. “Guess we’ll never know.”

For a moment, Karasu stayed silent, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh so exaggerated it might as well have been a theatrical performance, he finally relented.

“Fine,” he said, as if you’d just forced him into a life-or-death situation. “I’ll go to your stupid beach. But only because I know you’ll be insufferable if I don’t.”

“Uh-huh,” you said with a triumphant grin. “And definitely not because of what I might wear, right?”

He scoffed, looking away to hide the faint pink dusting his cheeks, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

You laughed, linking your arm with his as the two of you continued walking, “You’re such a terrible liar, babe.”

He muttered something under his breath, but the way his fingers brushed against yours told you everything you needed to know.

The beach trip was officially on.

The beach trip… yay or nay? Comment to be tagged on (possibly) future Karasu oneshots

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 17

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here.

First - Prev - Next

CH.17

“Hey specs, can I get a favour?”

“What’s that?”

“Can you drive me into town?”

“What for?”

“The hot water shut off two days ago, and PhD still hasn’t paid the water bill. So fuck it, I lifted his wallet and we’re gonna do it for him.”

“Did you talk to Stanford about this?”

“I told him as soon as the water went cold. He said he’d get to it, and look where we are. Either cold water doesn’t bother him, or he actually doesn’t shower… I’d believe that second thing.”

“We could just drag him out.”

“He fell asleep at his desk, we’re good.”

“And you’re just going to claim to be him to the utility companies?”

“I’ll stuff my hair into my beanie. You two are always going on about how similar we look and how we ‘have the same face’.”

“I suppose he’s so reclusive the townsfolk don’t know him that well…”

“Besides, I can do a pretty good impression of him.”

“You can?”

“Sounds kinda rough because I used to smoke, but yeah. Wanna hear?”

“Sure.”

“‘I’m a total maniac who lives in the middle of nowhere in the woods, I love being a massive nerd’.”

“...Wow, that’s so close. It’s unnerving actually. I kindly ask that you never do that again if you’re not impersonating him.”

“So you’re down for going into town?”

“Yes sirree. The lack of hot water was bothering me too.”

(...)

“You know, I’m used to people giving me the stink eye, but I didn’t think your friend was so disliked by the general public too.”

“Stanford doesn’t have the easiest time forming bonds with others.”

“Colour me surprised.”

“He explained to me that due to his less than stellar history of paying his bills on time, and these strange ‘episodes’ he’ll have every so often, the town generally considers him to be a menace.”

“Ha! Guess we do have something in common, after all.”

“...I don’t think that’s the only thing.”

“Hey, what’s with all the costumes? Is there a festival or something going on?”

“Oh, right; you don’t know. The townsfolk were explaining to me the other week that Gravity Falls loves Halloween so much that they celebrate it twice a year; Halloween on October 31st, and Summerween on June 20th.”

“Should we have stocked up on some candy or something?

“Stanford said not to worry about it; his cabin is so isolated no one would go over there to trick-or-treat.”

“Ah, no fun. Wait; there’s no rush to head back, we should hit a couple of bars, maybe sneak into a Summerween party or two.”

“I don’t know, Stan...”

“Come on. We’ll even get some lame costumes, get in the spirit of things. I still owe you that apology drink.”

“Hmm, I guess I’ll have to take you up on that offer then, big boy.”

*Stan elbows him in the ribs and looks away*

“Why do ya gotta say something like that?”

“Did you just turn red?”

“No.”

“Sure darlin, I’ll believe you if you can say that again looking me in the eye.”

(...)

“Oh my aching cervical spine- I don’t remember putting this blanket on myself.” 

*Ford gets up with his desk and walks out of his room, looking around*

‘It’s quiet.’

‘Where did those two go?’

‘They’re most likely together, I did not think they’d become such good friends in such a short amount of time, but I suppose it’s preferable over them being at odds.’

‘A note? …They went into town to run a few errands. Very well. I hope Stanley behaves himself. My reputation isn’t the best already.’

‘Did Fiddleford rearrange my shelves again? I know he means well, but I’d prefer to know where my belongings are.’

‘Those letters? Looks like he arranged them by sender alphabetically, which is considerate of him… I suppose I have nothing better to do than to finally read them, see what the fuss was about a year ago.’

‘...Condolences?’

‘With deepest sympathy…?’

‘Sorry for your loss?’

‘Thoughts and prayers?’

‘This- this article? That- that can’t be right! Why would they think-?!’

*door opens and Stan and Fiddleford stumble in laughing; Stan is wearing a werewolf costume and Fiddleford is in a vampire costume*

"'-only one thing To do now, Stan', and she pulls out a gun too. 'Agent Powers's got a fucking gun? So will I'. And then they just have a shootout in the middle of the street."

“Your stories get more and more wiley every time Stan. Hey Stanford! Sorry we were out for so- hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, you’re looking pretty pale PhD.”

“I- I-... I need to go. I need to- I need to call someone.”

*Ford grabs the box of letters and practically runs back to his study, slamming and locking the door*

“I hope he’s okay…He’s looking as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

“Yeah, it’s not like our costumes are that scary.”

(...)

RING

RING

RING

RING

CLICK

“Do you have any idea what time it-.”

“Ma!”

“Oh, Stanford darling. What’s wrong?”

“Ma, why did all of my colleagues send me condolence letters?”

“...Sweetheart-.”

“Why is there a newspaper article stating that Stanley died in a car accident?! Ma, why would-!”

“Stanford, I know the grieving process is different for everyone…”

“It’s all lies!”

“But you need to accept what happened…”

“He isn’t dead!”

“It’s been over a year, Stanford! When you didn’t come to his funeral, I knew you weren’t handling the shock and pain the same as the rest of us… How could you? He was your twin, the other half of your whole. But denial like this isn’t healthy.”

“I’m not-. He is not-. There wasn’t even a body!”

“It was destroyed in the fire… Just ash.”

“How could you be so sure!? This is your own son-.”

“The car landed in a ravine, Stanford! Stanley.. Oh my poor free spirit, I wanted so badly to believe that maybe he escaped but… the only way out of the ravine was to climb out, and Stanley was terrified of heights…”

OREGON COMMUNITY WATCH STAN PINES DEAD  FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED IN PINES' DEATH. The flaming wreckage of a wrecked car was found in a ditch four miles from Highway 618 at 6 a.m. Monday morning. The cut breaks and odd location of the car suggest that this was no accident. Says a rookie cop, "Mighty suspicious. Mighty suspicious." In other news, leg warmers all the rage this week and we predict this style will go on forever.

To be continued…

[orions-choker]

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Serial Killers, Murder, Obsessions, Yandere tendencies, more to be added.

Chapter Eight

“You really think right now is the most important time to be taking me on this date?” Y/N asked with a soft huff as Kirk’s hand rested in the crook of her elbow, guiding her down the cracked pavement. The streets were dead as usual lately. She missed back in high school when things were lively downtown, filled with raucous laughter from teenagers and the disgruntled mumblings of the annoyed elderly. She felt almost stupid being out here.

Kirk smiled down at her, her eyes catching on the small sharp crooked tooth that nestled between his canine and front teeth. A flush warmed her cheeks, he was impossibly cute. “Y/N you can’t completely shut down your life, who knows how long it's going to be until they catch this creep you can't hide forever.” He said in an attempt to be encouraging. But she could, she could hide forever if she tried hard enough probably. “And I promised you I was taking you on a date.”

She could crawl into her parents bed, nestled between them the way she used to when she was six with her dog in her arms, have them protect her from the cruel intentions of the world outside. Hell based on the way the streets looked right now that's what most people were doing. Kirk seemed ever fearless though, she couldn't tell if she was impressed or unsettled by the way he just…didn’t seem to care about all of this. “Yeah well, going to see a horror movie right now seems like a bit of a tone deaf date idea don’t you think?” She asked, her eyes wearily glazed over a missing person poster tacked to one of the telephone poles. It was one of many, this girl had been found…she supposed her parents didn’t have the strength to come take it down.

The grip Kirk had on her arm tightened slightly as they approached the movie theatre. “Well that’s why we're going in the middle of the day, won't be scary that way.” He said nonchalantly, frowning playfully at her. “It’s a creature feature anyways, not remotely the same.” He waved his hand dismissively as he approached the teller and began purchasing their tickets.

“That’s not what I meant.” Y/N mumbled wearily as Kirk shoved an oversized popcorn into her hands. She could appreciate his carefree attitude only in the sense that it distracted her. But she was getting uncomfortable with his increasing lack of care for the situation at hand. She remembered when she first approached him in his backyard just a few weeks ago, how mature he had seemed, the way he had expressed his condolences to the victims.

She was coming to realize he was a lot less mature than he acted, she found it hard to believe that he was older than her. It was something about the way he was always smiling at her, always laughing under his breath like there was an inside joke she wasn’t in on. To top it off, his insistence that they go on this date worried her. She liked Kirk, she liked him a lot actually but dating was the last thing on her mind.

He had simply ignored her protests as they shuffled into the dark theatre. It was empty and cold, that didn't surprise her. Who in their right mind went to see a horror movie in the middle of your neighbors being slaughtered like cattle. Her and Kirk she supposed, though she wasn’t quite sure either of them were in their right mind at this point. Kirk seemed to flip on the drop of a dime between overwhelmingly playful to almost scary. She hadn’t missed the possessive primal look in his eyes when he didn’t think she was looking.

Initially it had excited her, made her feel a bit warm and fuzzy to think he was that interested in her. “Relax baby, I got you, remember?” He leaned over to whisper in her ear, noticing the tension in her shoulders. He didn’t really need to whisper no one else was in here. Maybe she was a little messed up in the head in the fact that it seemed to comfort her. She leaned her head against his shoulder as the lights from the screen began to illuminate their faces.

Suddenly Kirk's hand was on her cheek, guiding her face up towards him as he pressed his lips to hers. Her whole body went limp as she kissed him back. She had quickly grown addicted to these metallic cigarette flavored kisses. She pushed up the arm rest in between their seats that had been separating them as she leaned further into him. Yeah she was messed up, making out with him in this empty theatre to the backdrop of blood curdling screams and monstrous growls. She pulled back with a soft gasp. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this here, pretty sure they have cameras in here.” She whispered.

Kirk was looking at her with a flush to his cheeks, his eyes dark and lidded. There was an almost aggressive curl to his fingers against her hip. “What, it’s not like there's anything illegal about kissing.” He grunted softly as he tugged her closer. “That's all this is baby, it's okay c’mere.” His lips ghosted across hers once more. She couldn’t deny the thick sweet desperation lacing his voice. Y/N climbed into his lap a little awkwardly, restricted by the size of the theatre seats. Her hands cupped the back of his neck as she kissed him fervently.

His fingers dug almost painfully into her skin as he slid his hands up beneath her sweater, his blunt nails leaving indents in her flesh. She hissed softly against his lips but didn’t dare pull away. She almost choked as Kirk pushed his tongue into her mouth and down her throat. A soft needy whine coiled up from her throat, drowned between the soft smacking of their lips together. Her lips were swollen and bruised by the time the end credits to the movie rolled. The only thing interrupting the two of them was the brightening of the theatre lights.

Hesitantly Y/N crawled off him, leaning down to rub at her cramping calves. She watched as Kirk not so subtly adjusted himself in his jeans, his hand slipping beneath the waistband to tug his hardened length up flat against his stomach so it was less noticeable. It was lewd, the movements and her mouth went dry. “You should wash your hands after touching your dick.” She chastised him instead.

He blinked at her and laughed, a sweet airy sound. She was completely enamored with him in spite of his…concerning behavior. “You serious Y/N?” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they left the empty theatre back out into the lobby. “Did you wash your mouth out after you sucked me off the other night?” He whispered teasingly to her.

“What!” She sputtered, looking up at him with wide eyes. An embarrassed flush rising to her cheeks. “I- Yes I did!” She protested softly as he continued to laugh at her. “Oh my god Kirk you can’t just say things like that.” She covered her face in embarrassment, as if the two pathetic workers in the building could possibly hear the conversation they were having right now.

There was a soft kiss planted on her temple as Kirk’s laughter died down. ”Jesus Y/N calm down you look you’re about to combust.” He shook his head, his wild dark curls bouncing softly. “You don’t have to be so shy around me, as cute as it is.” He pressed her closer against his side as they made their way back to his car. “How about we get takeout and head back to my place.”

As Y/N slid into his passenger seat she eyes his glove box wearily. She wondered if that knife was still in there. The silver gleam still fresh in her mind…why did he keep that in his car. Self defense seemed highly unlikely who keeps a butcher's knife for self defense. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably. “I don’t know Kirk, I think my parents want me back home, I’ve been at yours all weekend.” She sighed. Since that phone call two nights ago she had been spending the night at Kirks. Her parents were less than pleased but were comforted by the fact at least she was right next door, they couldn't really do much to stop her anyways.

Kirk had a tight grip on her thigh as he started the car. “You don’t have to spend the night again, just…hang out with me a little longer. This is a date is it not?” He grunted, he was trying to keep it playful but she could hear the genuine aggravated tone in his voice. This was a date she supposed, a bit of a…odd one. She hadn’t even really agreed to it, kirk had sort of just woken her up and insisted she come with him.

“Yeah, okay.” Y/N relented with a soft sigh as she relaxed beneath his touch, his fingers grinding into the soft flesh of her thigh through her jeans. His touches were always so hard and aggressive, his kisses soft and fleeting. It was a balance she was struggling to figure out. “I think I just want a drink, I don’t have much of an appetite lately.” She rested her head back against the seat.

It was hard to miss the way Kirk's face lit up as she agreed to stick around him a bit longer. She didn’t really pay attention to where he had stopped to get food. Her eyes were trained on his figure as he disappeared into the shop. Quickly she leaned forward popping open the glove box. There it was tucked in the back beneath his insurance papers. Her hand gripped the handle gingerly as she tugged it forward to get a better look, It was discolored along the razor sharp edge, it almost looked rusty.

A sick feeling settled its way into the pit of her stomach. She flipped it over a couple of times in her hand. Why was…Her eyes caught sight of something else, an earring? She pushed the knife back beneath the papers, nestled into its poorly concealed hiding place. She pinched the silver hoop between her fingers and closed the glove box once more. Kirk has his ears pierced sure but this was unmistakably a woman's earring. A large glimmering silver hoop, she laid it flat in her palm as she stared down at it.

It wasn’t hers, she knew that much. Kirk’s moms maybe? She didn’t ever recall seeing the woman wear anything quite like this before though. An ex fling, a random hookup? For some reason that thought made her stomach twist even more uncomfortably. Why did Kirk have this, why did he have that knife. She jumped lightly as she heard the driver door open again, her hand quickly clasping around the earring as she looked up at Kirk with a surprised smile.

“Woah, jumpy much?” He teased her, placing the plastic takeout bags in her lap. Her heart was hammering wildly beneath her ribcage, she had almost been caught snooping again, she could remember the way he snapped at her when she opened his glovebox the last time. “You good?” he asked a little softer this time, noticing the distant look on her face.

Quickly Y/N shook her head, snapping herself out of the daze. “Oh yeah I’m fine, sorry just zoned out while you were gone.” She lied quickly as she smiled brightly at him. She could feel the silver hoop burning against her skin, reminding her of its presence in her fist. It felt heavy, like it carried the weight of hundreds of sins, she couldn’t let go of it. Discreetly she slipped it into the front pocket of her jeans. “Thanks for the milkshake.”

Kirk hummed and nodded. “Mhm, got you Oreo, your favorite.” He smiled, his hand returning to its rightful place on her thigh, like it belonged there, like he owned it. Oreo was her favorite, she didn’t know how he knew that though. She was almost positive it had never come up. It was almost an undetectable slip up, but she was hyper aware. Something was seriously wrong, with all of this, with Kirk. She should have been scared, should have pried a little further into him before she had gotten so comfortable with his presence. But instead she relaxed under his touch and looked up at him softly and she smiled.

“Yeah, it is my favorite.”

[mobius-m-mobius]

I finally actually watched that Loki s1 bts clip where Owen quotes the first line of Two Gentlemen of Verona and. WHAT DO YOU MEAN he doesn't have any particular connection the play he 'just' took a Shakespeare class in college. He's so clearly trying to laugh it off like it's not very impressive but that's sure not working on me Owen, I can barely remember which classes I took let alone verbatim quotes from plays I'm not even that into WHAT

Everything about this ask, yes!!! 💕

Thank you anon because that's something I've been going on about for years ever since the s1 Assembled ep dropped lol, the fact that Tom just casually mentions Owen knows most of Hamlet BY HEART is wild but of course he shrugs it off as usual insisting it isn't true before dropping that line from Two Gentlemen of Verona verbatim?? Like okay tell me more about what you don't know then ��

He has very possibly the most literary mind I've ever experienced and it actually drives me a little crazy that somehow isn't a more well known or acknowledged fact about him. After the first season of Loki ended I thought I'd just be going through his many films I hadn't gotten a chance to watch yet but instead got just as captivated with interviews where he was detailing his home libraries, referencing lines from even the most obscure novels or scenes at the drop of a hat and falling even more in love with how that's clearly shaped his sense of humor and delivery.

It's also why I wish he didn't laugh off the idea that he himself could've played Hamlet, which he likely did since as we've noticed he's quick to downplay his skills and talent, but also because that's how most of the general public would react if the same question was presented?? And he isn't especially comfortable on live stages so theater probably isn't a medium he's considered in any serious fashion but for me at least it's far more fascinating to see the take an actor more well known for comedy would give a dramatic role of any kind and I don't doubt he'd be incredible at any he set his mind to 🥰

[musiquesduciel]

Christmas 2023 taking me back to 5th grade middle school days.

[sincaraz]

have acquired a lorenzo towel (sonego variety)

[a9saga]

i cannot believe kaysar got backdoor evicted on his birthday twice..... tWICE

[redgoldsparks]

My Experience Buying eSIMs for Gaza by Maia Kobabe

instagram / patreon / portfolio / etsy / my books

Full transcript below the cut:

Cover:

My Experience Buying eSIMs for Gaza 

Project organized by @ connectinghumanity_

by Maia Kobabe @redgoldsparks 

Page 1 

In Fall 2023, I saw instructions on instagram for how to purchase an eSIM card and submit it to be distributed to someone in Gaza. 

Download an eSIM app-> Select Middle East as the region-> Purchase-> Screenshot the QR code-> Do not activate-> send to gazaesims@gmail.com 

Image of Maia looking at eir phone. “That sounds easy, I’ll buy one.” 

I emailed an Airalo eSIM QR code to gazaesims on Nov 17 2023. 

Page 2

By January 2024, it hadn’t been activated yet. I bought a second one from Nomad and sent my new QR code and resubmitted my old one. 

Image of Maia looking at eir phone. “How long does this usually take, I wonder?” 

By February neither had been activated, but Connecting Humanity kept posting about needing more. I bought a second Nomad and resubmitted all of them on February 15, 2024. 

Page 3

The Nomad eSIMs are much cheaper than Airalo, but what I didn’t realize is that they expire even if they haven’t been activated. At the end of February I decided to try a third company, Simly. Here’s a price comparison: 

AIRALO: $39 USD for 3GB, never expires 

SIMLY: $22 USD for 3GB, never expires 

NOMAD: $16 USD for 3GB, expires after 8 weeks even if unused, only offers in-app refunds 

Page 4

Connecting Humanity asks folks to wait at least 3 weeks before resending a QR code that hasn’t been activated yet. On March 7 Mirna Elhelbawi posted: 

We send EVERY esim we receive. Bear in  mind that we are dealing with people at a war zone. They might take it and get killed before activating it, they might take it and their phone gets lost or destroyed. They might take it and search for days for stable internet connection to activate it, and some of them activate it unsuccessfully due to lack of knowledge and the horrific situations they are in. ~Connecting Gaza 

By early April, my first Nomad eSIM expired unused. I resubmitted my three remaining eSIMs. 

Page 5

Suddenly, two of my eSIMs were activated on the same day! The Airalo I’d purchased 4.5 months earlier and my second Nomad. 

Image of Maia looking happy and surprised. 

Image of Maia looking very intensely at eir phone. “I have to make sure these don’t run out!” 

I began buying top-up packages immediately. 

Page 6

I felt like I had planted a seed in the fall and waited all winter for it to sprout. Seeing it activated was like watching the first new leaves break the soil. 

Image of Maia with a watering can labeled “data”, sprinkling water on two little sprouts. “Watering my eSIMs!” 

Sadly, only .07 GB of data was ever used on my Nomad. It was never used again after that first day. 

Page 7

But my Airalo has been in constant use for over a month now. I check on it every day. 

I will never know the person I am buying data for and they will never know me. But we are connected by the same strings of hope and grief that connect us all. 

Image of two hands holding a phone, which is connected to a flying kite. 

Page 8

On April 5, 2024 Connecting Humanity reported they had sent more than 250,000 eSIMs to Gaza, equivalent to approximately $6.3 million donated! You can visit gazaesims.com for more info, instructions, and discounts. Here are my referral codes: 

MAIA5367 for $3 off Airalo 

MB772 for $3 off Simly 

MAIA66GF for $3 off Nomad 

If you need more incentive, the Cartoonist Coop is doing art rewards. Visit cartoonist.coop/esims4gaza 

Page 9

Image of Maia, weighing two options. “Buying an eSIM is easy and can make a very direct impact. It can also take a lot of patience and could get expensive over time if you commit to keeping the eSIM topped up indefinitely.” 

If an immediate one time donation is more your speed, I recommend Operation Olive Branch and Gazafunds, two places to find Gofundmes aiding Palestinian families. 

gazafunds.com

@ operationolivebranch on insta

linktr.ee/opolivebranch 

-Maia Kobabe 2024 

[ayyy-pee]

nanami tells you he loves you for the first time when he knows you can't hear him. you've dozed off in the middle of your movie night...again, popcorn fallen to the floor and kernels scattered. which isn't much of a surprise to him. in fact, you fall asleep during almost every movie night. work has been hard on you lately and you just can't seem to stay awake long enough to finish a movie.

it doesn't annoy nanami either. he finds it quite endearing, really and often finds himself observing the pretty way your lashes fan across your face. how your lips do this cute little pouty thing that makes him want to kiss you. how sometimes you snore (but he'd never tell you he knows that). he can't get enough of you. it only confirms what he'd known only two weeks into dating.

he loves you

there are not many things in this world nanami fears, but he does fear scaring you off by falling too hard, and falling too fast. he does fear you not returning his feelings. and he even fears how intense this love he has for you is. but, he couldn't have avoided it if he tried. before he knew it, he was already smitten with you.

and it's still far too early for him to build up the courage to say these three little words to you when you're wide awake and able to respond (the most terrifying part to him), but he knows what he feels. that's one thing nanami is absolutely certain of.

so when you nuzzle further into his chest tonight, the noise of the television fades into the background for nanami, and he finds himself leaning down to press his lips to the crown of your head where he whispers, so so softly, "I love you."

a part of him wishes you'd hear it, surprise him by opening your eyes and smiling up at him. maybe tell him you love him, too. but your soft and even breaths tell him you're deep into dreamland.

'that's alright,' he thinks. because he's certain of his love for you, and he's sure that one day he'll be brave enough to tell you just how certain he is.

[incorrectbatfam]

Does the Batmobile ever get ticketed or does the GCPD just ignore it

Bruce: *puts a box on the table*

Bruce: Gather around, everyone. It's time for our monthly ticket review.

Bruce: First up, Steph. Can you explain what happened last Friday?

[earlier]

Steph: *looking for parking in a full lot*

Steph: Screw it, I'm going around back.

Steph: *parks in front of a fire exit*

[present]

Steph: I just needed to use the bathroom.

Bruce: And in those three minutes, the Joker released a giant water balloon forcing everyone to evacuate through one less exit.

Steph: It said "fire exit." That technically wasn't a fire.

Bruce: Well, the penalty is $100 plus the towing cost. I can pay it off but you have to help Alfred in the kitchen for a month.

Steph: Yeah, that's fair.

Bruce: Next up... Cass and Barbara? Color me surprised.

Barbara: Oh yeah, I had to remotely pilot the Batmobile the other day because Cass needed a getaway.

Bruce: Then why am I being charged $250?

[earlier]

Cass: *fighting a gang*

Barbara: Orphan, ETA thirty seconds. Prepare for extraction.

Cass: *knocks out the last henchman and runs to the car*

Comm. Gordon: *writing a ticket*

Cass: ?

Comm. Gordon: You're in a disabled parking spot without a permit.

[present]

Barbara: Well I am disabled.

Bruce: Understandable. I'll let it slide since it's the first time. Just file the paperwork for a permit.

Bruce: Dick, you went thirty-five over the speed limit when you weren't pursuing a suspect. Explain.

[earlier]

Wally: Race you to Keystone?

Dick: *revs the engine*

[present]

Bruce: You're better than this. I'm disappointed. Next up: Tim. Driving without a license plate. What happened there?

[earlier]

Tim: I wasn't supposed to take the Batmobile since Bruce benched me for my wrist, but my other ride is in the shop.

Kon: What about cameras? Can't your dad tap into the city's surveillance system?

Bart: Traffic cameras read license plates, so if we take them off, no one will recognize us.

Kon: Now that's an idea.

[present]

Tim: That's on me. I shouldn't have listened to them.

Bruce: Put them back on, plus you're benched for another week. Damian, on to you.

Damian: What on Earth could I have done? I followed the speed limit, parked in the correct spots, and never so much as changed lanes on an empty road without signalling.

[earlier]

Damian, a middle schooler: *driving*

[present]

Damian: Tt.

Bruce: Don't do it again. Duke...

Duke: *cringes and remembers what he did*

[earlier]

Duke: *hooks the Batmobile to a freezer trailer*

Duke: *starts driving around with a megaphone*

Duke: Ice cream! Get your ice cream!

[present]

Bruce: Fantastic job. No complaints.

Jason, muttering: Teacher's pet.

Bruce: And finally, Jason.

Bruce: *empties the rest of the box*

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - non/con, unbalanced power dynamics, obsessive/possessive behavior, and manipulation.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who's the best security you could possibly ask for. You've been told that hybrids aren't very good for protection, that you'd be better off just getting a regular dog or, better yet, not living alone in one of the sketchier neighborhoods of a notoriously unsafe city, but those people haven't meant your Kento. Stern, stoic, and loyal - he keeps you safe, helps around the house, and doesn't need (or want, for that matter) half of the attention a normal dog would need. Really, it's more like having a personal bodyguard than a pet. You're sure he'd prefer if it if you treated him more like the former than the latter, too.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who'd practically be human if it wasn't for the adorably pointed ears on top of his head, the wiry tail at the base of his spine, and the dull canines you sometimes catch a glimpse of during one of his rare smiles. It's clear that he doesn't consider himself to be like most hybrids, so you do your best to treat him like a roommate - giving him his space, making sure he has his privacy, constantly resisting the urge to run your hands through his hair and apologizing profusely when you inevitably fail. He claims he doesn't mind, not if it's you, but you've seen the way his lips curl when strangers so much as approach him, how he rolls his eyes when he sees other hybrids sitting on their owners' laps or begging for treats. You're not eager to get on his bad side, even if you do occasionally catch him slipping into your bed in the middle of the night.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who's mistaken for your boyfriend at least once a week. It's your own fault, really. He likes to walk you to work, run errands while you're away, all the things a stay-at-home boyfriend would usually do if he were as loving and as attentive as Nanami. It's always embarrassing, even if all you have to do is nod to one of his less-than-human features to clear up the misunderstanding. Still, it happens so often, and you're not proud to admit that from time to time, you don't have the energy to do anything but smile and nod when your elderly neighbor compliments the 'hunk of a man' living with you.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who's less naturally protective than you think he is. He's concerned with your safety, of course, but that's not a privilege that extends to the male coworkers he catches with a hand on the small of your back, to the friends who drag you out of your shared apartment and don't bring you back until the early hours of the morning. He spends more nights than he's proud of standing outside of your bedroom door, listening for any signs of life, waiting for an intruder, or a nightmare - any excuse to cross that unspoken boundary. It'd be more practical to spend his nights on the foot of your bed like every other drooling, filthy mutt hybrid, but that's not the kind of relationship he wants to have with you. Not if you have to think of him as a dog to get there.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who has to fuck his fist three times a day to offset his humiliating instincts. He tried for complete abstinence at first, not to think about you in that context at all, but there's only so many hours of his day he can spend with his knot pressed into his stomach, his cock twitching every time you bend over or brush against him. Still, it's far from a long-term solution. How could it be, when he still cums untouched every time you scratch the base of his ears?

Guard Dog!Nanami, who volunteers to take care of your household chores so he'll have an excuse to root through your laundry while you're away. He's surprised you haven't noticed just how much of your underwear mysteriously vanishes with every load, but even if you were less oblivious, he'd rather you be suspicious of him than ever find the hoard of tattered, stained, ruined fabric he keeps underneath his mattress.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who knows this can't go on for much longer. He loves you, and he respects you, and he knows that you'll never really see him as anything more than a pet, but he's can't seem to bring himself to see you as a master. And, when he's walking you home late at night after yet another unplanned bar crawl, when he's listening to you whine half-coherently about how hard it is to live with a hybrid that's so close to human, he may pass a darkened alleyway and listen to the long-buried, animalistic mind urging Nanami to claim what belongs to him.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who knows that you'll never make a very good master and he'll never make a very good pet. But, that doesn't mean he can't hope that you'll both be better off after your roles are reversed.

[caitlinsnicket]

viktor relationship headcanons

warnings: if you squint, you might see something a little intimate, but other than suggestions, there's nothing.

a/n: surprised myself by not only writing this so quickly but also by not including any filth. wow.

masterlist | 🍉 | ko-fi

He lives for shoulder kisses, treating them as a sort of stress reliever.

You visit his lab, bringing him a cup of tea (to make him sleepier and get him to bed quicker), and as you pass by, you lean down to kiss his shoulder.

Even through his shirt, he can feel your warmth, and as you leave, he manages to relax a little more.

Sometimes, before you go, he'll hold your hand and kiss your knuckles, his lips wandering down your wrist and arm until you start pulling him away from the workbench.

On good days—the days when he doesn’t feel as much pain or discomfort just from breathing—he asks for your help removing the harness he wears around his middle section.

He doesn’t actually need the help, but he loves the way your skin feels against his, especially during such an intimate moment, and he savors every second with you.

Putting the harness back on is a hassle, but it’s easier now because you understand.

It’s one thing to force your help on him, and another to ask if he needs it. He appreciates that you ask—and that you back off when he tells you to.

Another bittersweet aspect of your relationship is that he’s always cold. While it’s uncomfortable for him when he’s alone, it’s the best thing in the world when you’re around.

He’ll shiver slightly, and you’ll appear out of nowhere, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders and pulling him close, tucking his hands under your thighs and kissing his nose until he’s boiling hot.

You also insist that he drink more warm beverages (except coffee—you banned that from your apartment ages ago), wear thicker clothes, and even use masks in the lab because his colds are always worse than expected.

Viktor insists he’s a grown man perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but when you hold his hands in yours and blow on them, he swallows his pride and lets you. Your love comes in waves like these, and he’s learned to catch as much of it as he can.

He doesn’t pay much attention to his appearance. While that unintentionally makes him a hundred times more attractive, it becomes a problem as he grows more important. It’s hard to explain that he can’t show up to an important meeting looking disheveled and that he needs to fix his hair before leaving the house.

So, you sit him down on the little bench you use to get ready yourself, using some of your products to tame his hair, smoothing down stray locks and ensuring he looks polished. The entire time, he fights to stay awake because of your gentle touch, eventually resting his face against your belly and breathing you in.

When you’re done, it’s a bit hard to get him up and out the door, but you manage by peppering kisses on his cheeks and nose. His heart races at your affection, and he promises to return as soon as possible so the two of you can be together again.

At some point, while redecorating the apartment for the millionth time, a picture falls out of one of his books: it’s him as a child, holding up a toy boat with a huge smile on his face. The sight makes you momentarily consider starting a family right then and there, so you call him over to show him.

He stutters, trying to snatch the photo from your hands, but you stop him, giggling at his embarrassed expression.

"You were so cute as a kid! I mean, you still are, but you looked so small! Baby Vik!" you tease, and he buries his face in his hands.

You end up framing the photo and hanging it on the living room wall, right beside one of your own.

But his absolute favorite thing the two of you do together is bathing. He never saw the point of it before—showering was easier and more practical—but now, he needs at least one bath a week just to keep going.

You fill the bathroom with bubbles, scents, and soaps, and he gets to sit back and relax with you in the warm water (which soothes his pain) in a dimly lit room. He loves it: your hands gently touching him, the care you take to ensure he’s comfortable and content in the tub, and even washing his hair for him.

He finds it almost pathetic how completely in love he is with you.

[thebearer]

nothing in the world belongs to me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: still new in your relationship, you show up to the bear for dinner unexpectedly, surprising carmen and the others.

based off this prompt from the other day :)

contains: fluff lol. really, it's just fluff. established-ish relationship (the others don't know). carmen being a little nervous and possessive but mainly cute <3 language.

“Alright, listen up,” Richie stood next to Sydney, flicking through the piles of tickets that were ringing through by the second. It was normal now, an expected task in their routine. “We need to walk the focaccia to table seven, please.” 

“Yes, Chef!” A chorus of nearly robotic voices rose from the sizzling hiss of the lamb searing in Carmen’s pan, lifting the spatula to tip the meat over, before giving it back to the chef on the line. 

“And for table nine, we’ve got a shellfish allergy, alright? So let’s triple check the cross contamination on that. T, can you handle that one?” Richie moved from his leather bound book of notes back to the ticket. 

“Yes, Chef!” Tina chimed, pulling a freshly washed pan, filling it with the veal stock. 

“Table nine, is that- that’s the senator?” Carmen turned to Richie, tasting the roux bubbling on Victoria’s station, giving her a curt nod of approval. 

“No, that’s table eleven.” Richie hummed, looking back at his notebook. “Nine, is… a birthday. Booked online.” Carmen had already begun to drone him out, mind racing with a million other things as Richie listed the guests name. Until he got to one. 

The name Carmen was sure he was hallucinating. The name no one knew- How would they know? How could they possibly know your name? 

You and Carmen had been seeing each other for a little while. A few weeks that were slowly turning into months. A casual thing that was slowly turning more serious. Dates and meetups are becoming more frequent. You’d even invited him over to your place a few times, he’d spent the night last week. 

Still, Carmen hadn’t managed to tell anyone. Selfishly, he liked that you were all his for now. Privacy was not guaranteed in the Berzatto house, in Carmen’s life still. He knew they meant well, they always did- he knew it wasn’t purposeful, the intrusion that almost always led to a demise. Carmen wasn’t ready for it, not yet, he still wanted you all to himself. 

“Carmen?” Sydney’s voice pulled him out of his panicked trance. “Chef, are you- are you good?” Her voice lilted with that familiar suspicious quip, the one always accompanied with her lifted brows. 

“What?” Carmen blinked, hands buzzing, heart thumping. He could see the window, Richie’s frame blocking most of it. “Sorry, yeah- yeah, I’m good, Chef.” 

Sydney watched him carefully, a slow nod before she continued calling out orders. Carmen could feel Richie’s eyes on him, narrowed with curiosity. Carmen tried to be nonchalant, crossing the kitchen back towards Tina, his eyes cutting carefully, looking out the window. 

There you were. 

Sitting pretty at the middle table, surrounded by friends, some Carmen recognized from your Instagram. He’d actually logged in to the app, looked you up after the first date, consumed every photo of yours in the dark of his room. Cheeks burning with excited heat, stomach fluttering in a way he hadn’t felt since junior high. 

“Alright, walk five salads to nine.” Sydney called out. “Where’s our runners? God, Richie, can you run-” 

“-I got it.” Carmen called, the urgency in his tone making Tina jump behind him. Carmen took the tray before Gary could, his hands shaking as he lifted it. 

“Cousin, I can get it.” Richie frowned. 

“No, I-I got it.” Carmen nodded, swallowing down his fluttering nerves. His eyes cut to your table through the window, heart skipping when he saw you. “I got it. I’ll be- I’ll just be a second.” 

“I don’t- I can’t even handle that one right now.” Sydney sighed in exasperation. “Alright, Chefs. Let’s get back on track.” She announced, shaking her head. Richie frowned, pulling out his phone. 

Sugar’s cell buzzed against the hostess stand, excusing herself to check it. 

From: Richie 

‘Look at table nine.’ 

Sugar huffed. 

To: Richie 

‘Why? Is there something wrong?’ 

She stepped back, casually turning to scan the room, eyes landing on the table. A small group of girls, younger, and amongst them- Carmen? 

To: Richie 

‘Is something wrong with the food? Do I need to comp it?’ 

From: Richie 

‘No. Cousin wanted to go out there.’ 

Sugar frowned, angling her body behind the large plant near the front as casually as she could. She watched through the leaves as Carmen passed out the salads, each girl grinning widely, but their eyes always cut to one on the end. 

Carmen saved your salad for last, hoping the lowlights of the restaurant would hide his boyish blush, setting the bowl in front of you carefully. “Hey,” 

“Hi,” You smiled sheepishly, looking to meet his gaze. “Everything looks so good.” 

“Yeah? Thanks.” Carmen nodded. “I-I didn’t know you were comin’ tonight.” 

“I’m sorry.” You cringed softly, embarrassed heat flooding through your veins. You knew better, knew you shouldn’t have done this- showed up at his restaurant unannounced. 

“I, uh, it’s my friend’s birthday.” You nodded towards Alicia at the end of the table. “And I was telling them about that pasta you made me, and they really wanted to come try it.” Your nerves bubbled, rambling in nervous peals that seemed to pour out before you could stop them.  

“Yeah, no, that’s really nice. Thank you.” Carmen nodded, giving a half smile to your friends, hoping they didn’t see the way he wiped his clammy hands on his apron. “Why didn’t- Why didn’t you just call me? Tell me you were comin’ in.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You muttered softly. “I honestly didn’t think you’d even see us here, I swear. I didn’t mean to bother you or anything-” 

“-You’re not bothering me.” Carmen’s voice dropped to a coo, accompanied with a soft smile that had your head spinning. “Never a bother, but, uh, next time? Bother me, ok? Wanna make sure you get the best seat in the house.” 

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your friends excited giggles only intensifying the rushing heat blanketing over your body. Carmen’s own cheeks heated, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek to hide his grin. 

“Alright?” Carmen added, and in a complete act of shocking boldness, his hand squeezed your shoulder affectionately. A small gesture on the outside, but for Carmen, it was huge. 

“Alright.” You grinned, leaning into his touch, your hands sliding over his. 

“How’s everything so far?” Carmen turned to the table, nodding at the excited gushes of compliments, not missing the way your friends cut their eyes to you with animated glee. 

“Just let me know if you need anything, ok?” Carmen turned to you.

“I will.” You nodded, starry eyed with love sick affection. 

“Good. I’ll see you before you leave, alright?” Carmen muttered, ducking down towards you. His lips brushed over your cheek, your perfume clouding his senses. “You’re not botherin’ me. ‘M glad you’re here.” 

Your cheek pressed to his, a gentle, affectionate rub before Carmen parted. Both of your features painted with shy delight. 

Carmen could feel everyone’s eyes, through flickering gazes and lifted brows. Sydney’s gaze lingering over him skeptically, still counting tickets. Fak’s wide grin from the corner, loading trays to take out. 

“Hey, uh, Marcus.” Carmen ignored Richie’s raised brows, a teasing, questioning remark on the tip of his tongue. 

“Yes, Chef?” Marcus muttered, looking up from the cannolis he was garnishing. 

“Table nine has a birthday. I was thinkin’ maybe the chocolate ganache, punch it with the little circle to make it look like a cake. Add a candle?” Carmen muttered, hand rubbing across his face. 

“Yeah, Chef, I can do that.” Marcus nodded. 

“Thank you.” Carmen nodded. “And Chef? Let me know when it’s ready before you walk it.” 

Marcus frowned. “No, it’s not- I just wanna walk it, ok?” Carmen shook his head. 

“Alright.” Marcus nodded slowly. “Heard, Chef.” 

Richie smirked, leaning against the stainless steel table. “So,” Richie hummed. “There a complaint or somethin’? Need me to go talk to ‘em-” 

“-No,” Carmen snapped, the possessiveness in his tone startling the both of them. “Sorry, it’s- No, I-I don’t need you to do that, Chef. Everything’s good.” 

Richie nodded slowly, passing the dishes to Gary with a nod. “You gonna tell me what that was about?” 

“No, Chef.” Carmen clipped, an edge to his tone that was teetering on annoyed. “But, uh, there’s not gonna be a check on table nine.” 

“What?” Richie frowned. “Did you mess somethin’ up? Seriously, Cousin, if something's wrong it’s my job to know-” 

“-No, it’s not-.” Carmen huffed, eyes pinching closed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Look, that’s… The girl on the end? I-I’ve been kinda seein’ her, ya know?” He muttered. 

Richie gawked, blinking in disbelief. “No shit.” He grinned. “No shit? You-You’re serious?” He turned to look out the window. 

“Don’t fuckin’ look.” Carmen hissed. “Look, it-it’s not a big deal, alright? Just don’t-don’t say anything o-or do anything.” 

Richie swallowed back a teasing remark, a reactive reaction from years of being with Mikey. How the two of them used to tease Carmen endlessly, until they were fighting on the front lawn, Mikey howling with laughter while Carmen was red faced with mortified anger. 

This time, Richie held back. He wasn’t sure why, call it divine intervention, a gut feeling maybe, but it felt different this time. 

“Alright.” Richie nodded slowly. “No ticket for nine. Heard.” 

Carmen’s foot tapped anxiously. “I mean, right? Th-That’s what I should do right?” Carmen looked over his shoulder out the window. “That would be shitty to give her a check? Be a complete jagoff move to charge her?” 

“Yeah,” Richie scoffed lightly. “Jagoff of the fuckin’ year. Makin’ your girl pay to come to your place.” 

Carmen’s heart swelled at the term- your girl. His girl. You were his girl. 

“Walk four Pappardelle to nine. Walk one Pappardelle vegetarian style to nine.” Sydney called. 

Carmen dipped the spoon in the glaze, garnishing the plate before sliding it towards Sydney. “So, you gonna take these out?” He muttered. 

“No,” Carmen huffed. “Gonna wait until the cake.” 

“Yeah, good idea, Cousin.” Richie nodded with a proud smile. “That when you’re gonna tell them no check tonight?” 

“No,” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t- It would feel weird comin’ from me.” He looked up at Richie. “I was gonna let you do it.” 

“Yeah, I can handle that.” Richie smirked. “And I won’t say anything, Cousin.” He stopped Carmen before he could say it. “I got you, Cousin. I won’t fuck it up, alright?” 

Carmen nodded slowly, a strangled thank you on the tip of his tongue. The door swung open behind Richie, and for a second, Carmen caught a glimpse of you. Smiling and laughing, leaned in over the table, no doubt giggling with your friends about him. Carmen’s heart squeezed, but this time, without fear. No, there was no dooming fear that you were mocking him, making fun of him. This time, he felt the content rush of adrenaline filled love. A change in his routine, yes. Unexpected, sure, but he was glad for it. Glad that you were there- here, with him.