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[sun-kissy]

chocolate-coated hearts | r.l.

୨ৎ series masterlist

barista!remus x shy!reader

summary: you go to a new cafe to order donuts for your friend, immediately enamoured with the barista

tw: nothing? reader takes literature as a major, also kind of has social anxiety

a/n: might make this a series! i’ve got a few ideas <3

An anxious sigh escapes you as you stand idly outside the cafe, peering inside through the mosaicked windows. It was jam-packed, people pushing past each other and snake-like queues forming throughout the space. You wriggle your phone out of your coat pocket and glance at the message that your friend, Madison, had sent in a half hour ago.

hey gorgeous!! mind picking up a few donuts for me at Beanie’s before you come over? a few of the pbj ones, and some chocolate ones too. thanks xx

She was expecting, and you went by whenever you could to help her out after her asshole of a boyfriend left.

Normally, you wouldn’t bother. You hated crowded places, and Beanie’s was the definition of crowded – an old-style cafe which had blown up overnight because of its scrumptious donuts and vintage aesthetic. But who were you to deny the cravings of the woman bearing your goddaughter?

You take a deep breath and push the creaky wooden door open, cringing at how the bell rang and signalled the whole cafe to your presence. But no one so much as looked up, busy trying to buy or sell food, or find a table.

You push your way through the sea of people, joining the queue in front of the counter. It was long, you noted, and would probably take another fifteen minutes or so until it was your turn to place an order. You fish out your crumpled book from your bag and turn it to the page you had stopped on yesterday. It was the second classic of the term – Pride and Prejudice. Taking literature as a major meant you spent more time reading than anything else, but you weren’t complaining.

As you read, you scribbled down plot points to take note of and quotes which meant something worth writing about. Your eyes stayed glued to the page, trying to work out hidden meanings and flowery language. Once you were back home, you’d have to compile all your analysis onto that worksheet Professor Ragnarsson had given out, write the 10-page long review, and then –

“Hey! Shut the damn book and order, will you?”

Your heart jumps in your chest at the sudden harsh tone. You close your book and whip your head around to see a middle-aged man glaring at you before peering down at his watch. “There’s a long queue, and we don’t have all day.”

The heat rushes to your cheeks as you open your mouth to apologise – but before you can say anything, you hear an oddly soothing voice from behind you. “Hey, don’t be a jerk. She didn’t know the counter was open.”

You glance back towards the counter, and you swear your heart stopped beating for a second. Angelic was an understatement to describe the man standing in front of you, tall and lanky and absolutely fucking beautiful.

His chestnut brown hair perfectly framed his pale face, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as he glanced at the rude customer behind you. There were pinkish scars tracing from above his eyebrows to right below his lips, but they looked golden under the orange light – he looked like some kind of heavenly being.

When his eyes dart back to you, his expression instantly softened, lips tilting upwards in a smile. You thought you would melt into a puddle right there and then just by gazing into his warm, honeyed eyes. “Hi, gorgeous. What can I get you?”

You blink, your mouth involuntarily falling open slightly. Gorgeous? Was he talking to you? Maybe he was referring to the man behind you.

His smile widens, and that does absolutely nothing to calm the feeling of your heart bouncing around in your stomach. “It’s okay if you can’t choose just yet, I know the number of options can be…” he chuckles, “overwhelming. Take all the time you need to decide.”

Oh my god, you thought. His laugh sounded musical, like the tender feeling of being enveloped in a warm embrace. You’d put it on a record player and play it on loop for hours if you could.

“Hurry the fuck up –”

“One more word from you and you won’t be getting your coffee today, buddy,” the godly-looking barista snapped in a slightly louder tone at the man behind you, face contorted in irritation.

You hear silent cursing behind you, a twinge of embarrassment turning you red. You quickly glance back up. “Sorry, hi, hello. I’ll um… I…” the words were on the tip of your tongue, but seemed to dissolve when he glanced at you with those agonisingly pretty eyes and kind smile.

Snap out of it, you internally curse as you open your mouth again. “I’ll get three peanut butter-jelly donuts, and four chocolate donuts.”

“Okay. Which chocolate ones?” he asks, tapping his tongs against the display dome with stacks of donuts. There really were a lot of options – chocolate sprinkles, belgian chocolate, chocolate glazed, double chocolate – your mind seemed to freeze up for a second. Which one would Madison want?

You quickly look behind you, seeing the man’s face twisted up in what looked like rage. It seemed to be taking him all his willpower not to lash out at you, and the customers behind him didn’t look much far off.

You turn back to the counter, eyes wide with panic as you feel the blood rush to your head. You had never been good at this; thinking and choosing on the spot. That’s why Subway was always a no-go for you, that’s why Madison had specifically told you what to get her – just that she hadn’t been specific enough. “I… I’m not sure. I think, um…”

“Hey, take it easy,” you look back up to see Remus giving you a reassuring smile, a slight hint of concern on his face. Your despair must have been embarrassingly evident, then. “It’s alright if you can’t choose. Do you want me to pick for you?”

You ought to have been humiliated, the way you immediately nodded and gave in to his offer. But he just gave you an easy smile and nodded, picking up one of each type and placing them in the box.

“Thank you,” you mumble sheepishly as you move to the payment counter, fishing in your bag for a wad of notes.

“Of course,” he grins, and it was so bright you thought it could probably light up the whole cafe. “That’ll be $15.90.”

As he waits for you to pay, he takes a quick look down and begins to brush crumbs off his apron. You look up at the wrong moment, eyes immediately fixing on the curves of his biceps visible through his T-shirt, and his slender fingers.

He glances back up at you, catching a glimpse of your flustered look and instantly smirking. You look away abashedly, counting the money and handing it to him.

The brush of your fingers against his calloused palm sent a jolting shock through you as you quickly pull back, not missing the way his smile widened as he cashed the money into the register.

“Thanks for visiting, sweetheart. Hope to see you again soon.”

You don’t reply, afraid you’d crumble into a blushing, gooey mess. Flashing him a brief, nervous smile, you pick up the box of donuts before turning around and heading straight for the exit. Sweetheart.

You huff as you open the door and step outside, pulling out your phone to complain to Madison all about the stupidly handsome barista at her favourite cafe. God, he really knew what he was doing.

[bvbygrl-writes]

Wrong House

Pairing: Stu Macher x Nerdy!Reader x Billy Loomis

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: A step into wrong house leads to a night of the right fun.

A/N: I was not supposed to upload this tonight but I'm too excited about it. I'm not proof reading this long ass shit either so if something is spelled wrong use your imagination to fix it, mwuah! <3

Warnings: reader has afab anatomy breaking and entering, knife play, homoerotic themes (they kiss but nothing more than that), mentions of murder, eiffel towering, loss of virginity, coercion and ultimatums, rope bandage, panty kink, and panty sniffing.

THIS FIC IS 18+!!! MINORS / ACCOUNTS WITHOUT AGE DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED WITH NO WARNING BUT THIS ONE.

(Y/n) was naturally an anxious girl but, with her parents out of town and the string of murders happening, she was on edge. She had every single light on in the house, the downstairs tv on, anything to make it seem as though the house was full of life. The reporters on the radio had told people to stay together and while most of the students in school had that option, she didn’t. Nobody wanted to be friends with the quiet girl who still wore Care Bear sweaters and could recite Star Trek lines from memory.

Nibbling the end of her pencil, she let out an exasperated sigh. She had been staring at the same math problem in her textbook for a good 45 minutes. “Focus, (Y/n/n), focus. If you do end up living through all of this, you’ll want to get into a good college.If you fail, mom and dad will make you wish you were dead.” she said out loud to herself, a sad laugh falling from her lips. At that same moment, her stomach began to grumble. When was the last time she ate? Reaching for the phone, she dialed the number to her favorite chinese food place. She loved it because the food was cheap and they were one of the only places that delivered something other than pizza after 10PM. 

“Alright, thank you!” she said, placing the phone back on the receiver. It’d be about a 20 minute wait, giving her time to focus more on her work. Sighing she sat back down in front of her textbook, staring at the page until the numbers started to blur together. “Well, that’s enough of that! I should get the money for the delivery driver seeing as it’ll be here in…” glancing at the clock on her wall she sighed, “Twenty minutes.” ignoring that face, she stood up, bunny slippers stomping over the carpeted floor to the piggy bank on her dresser. She pulled out a 10 dollar bill along with a 5 for the tip. But before (Y/n) could even get to her door, she heard a noise at the front door. 

“Th-that’s weird. There’s still nineteen minutes an-” she shrieked at the sound of the door bursting open. Every anxiety filled thought she had had since being home by herself was coming true. The blood drained from her face, her body growing light at the sound of the voices coming from the living room. Tears began to form in the corner of her eyes as she turned off the lights and closed her bedroom door. The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs put in perspective just how real this all was. She silently cursed her dad for never fixing the damn lock on her window. She might’ve broken a few bones from jumping, but that’d be better than being completely dead! Looking around her room she made the decision to jump in her closet, closing the accordion door.

She became aware of how loudly she was breathing, clamping her hands over her mouth. Her body trembled with terror. ‘Is this how I die? Alone, never experiencing friendship or love?’ Was this really the time to be feeling sorry for her lack of social and love life? ‘Well to be fair, this may be one of the last times I’m able to feel anything whatsoever.’ The sound of her bedroom door opening instantly made her mind go blank. The girl felt as though she was having a heart attack and honestly? She would have preferred that to whatever death she was about to experience.

“Are you sure this is the right house? This doesn’t look like Chelsea’s room.” A male’s voice remarked, the lights flicking on. She could see through the small slots on the folding door that there were two men. One had dark hair and a knife in his hand. The other one was taller with blonde hair and a backpack with god knows what inside of it.

“Yeah, dude! This is 345 Avalee Lane.” the other one exclaimed, an almost sinister grin on his face. The dark hair one made a sound that was a mix of a growl and a sigh.

“You fucking idiot! Chelsea lives in 348, we’re in the wrong house!” he pinched the bridge of his nose, kicking over the little trash can near her desk across the room. (Y/n) relaxed a bit. Maybe since they weren’t looking for her they’d just leave?

“Well at least no one’s home, we can just get out of here.” The blonde one rasped out, eating a piece of candy off of her dresser before tossing the wrapper on the ground. ‘Rude’ she thought.

“The lights and the tv were on. Someone’s definitely in this house. I’m going to go check the other rooms and you look around this one a bit better. We can’t take any chances.” The brunette exited the room and in the distance he heard the sound of different doors being opened. 

The blonde one began to hum, snooping around her room. He walked over to her dresser, opening up her panty drawer. A smile grew on his face as he held up a pair of white ones with a pink lace trim, shoving them in the back pocket of his baggy jeans. “Cute.” he said to himself (or so he thought). Walking over to her bed, he tossed the covers back before bending down to check under the bed as well. Next, he walked over to the cupboard of her collectable figurines, opening up the door. “Hm.” he shrugged before beginning to exit the room. She removed her hands from her mouth, placing them on the floor beside her as she let her body relax. However, before he could leave, she could see a lightbulb go off in his brain as he turned around walking towards the closet. The girl’s eyes went wide as she shook her head. As he opened the closet door, she couldn’t even manage to make a sound. A look of surprise made its way onto his face before he began to grin. “You’ve got cute little undies. Hey Billy!”

All (Y/n) could do was sit there in shock. She recognized this boy, he was in her art classes although he rarely showed up. Now that she could really see his face, he was quite attractive. Before she could delve into why she was letting herself think that, the other one (who she assumed was Billy) appeared right next to him. Although he had a scowl on his face, he was just as attractive. ‘Well, you always said you wanted a cute guy to notice you. There’s two! But you should’ve been more specific, huh (Y/n/n)?’ 

“She’s kind of cute in a dorky little way, ain’t she?” Stu commented as Billy used his knife to lift her chin. She didn’t dare stop making eye contact with Billy for fear of what he might do with that knife the second she did. He tilted her face around, examining it from all sorts of angles before he chuckled.

“She is. (Y/n), right? You’re the girl that’s always winning those sciences awards at school. We have AP English together.” he said in a calm tone. This was the strangest thing she had ever experienced. Why were they dragging this on so much when they could just kill her and get it over with?

“M-mmm-mhm!” she stuttered out, nodding her head ever so slightly so she didn’t cut herself on the blade. 

“Although I agree with my friend here, you still find yourself to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. See, I’ve got a plan and if I let you live, there’s a big chance you’re going to blab and ruin it for me.” he said, his words coming out through gritted teeth towards the end. “So unfortunately, your time’s up.”

“No, no please! I-I-I won’t blab and tell! I don’t have any friends or anyone to tell I won’t tell please! I promise!” she sobbed, begging for her life as he pressed the knife against her neck harder. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, which would also explain the sensation happening between her legs. Fat tears continued to stream down her face. “I promise please there’s gotta be a way!” she continued to plead for her life, waiting for something, just anything to happen. Whatever it’d take for this situation to be over. However, she was surprised when the knife suddenly was no longer pressed to her neck. Looking up, she saw the blonde one’s hand had moved it away and he was whispering something into Billy’s ear. Their eyes kept flickering to parts of the room and then back to her before Billy gave a singular nod. 

“It seems my friend Stu here has taken quite a liking to you so here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to have a bit of fun with you and if we enjoy it, you live and we’ll be back to get you after we finish some…business. And if not, I’ll slit your throat right after we finish. Does that sound fair?” Billy said, tugging her from her sitting position to be in between the both of them. She nodded frantically, happy to have even a small chance of living. She knew they were probably going to kill her when they were done, but at least that moment was suspended for a bit longer.

“Wh-what do I need t-to do?” she asked, her heart racing as she looked up at the two of them. They were completely dwarfing her with their size, it was like being trapped between two incredibly hot trees. Stu grinned at her once again before stepping back a bit.

“Well you can start by stripping!” he instructed, phrasing it like a suggestion even though she knew it wasn’t. She nodded, taking off her cream colored sweater, sliding her Power Rangers pajama pants down right after. She began to hesitate slightly as now she was just in her slippers and underwear.

“Allow me.” Billy said, using his knife to snip off her bra. He started at the shoulder straps, taking a moment to stare at her breast before tearing the backband as well. She didn’t try to cover up, knowing her chances of survival would dwindle to none. He went to pull down her panties but Stu stopped him, shaking his head.

“Leave those on her.” he said, before getting down on his knees in front of her. Billy held her arms behind her back with one of his, peeking over the girl’s shoulders to see what his moronic friend had planned. What she didn’t expect was for him to bury his face into her underwear-clad pussy and sniff. Stu let out a low moan as he did, eyes rolling back in pleasure. He continued to sniff at her front, his nose nudging her clit through the fabric. “God that’s amazing. Looks like she’s enjoying it too.” he said, rubbing his finger on the wet spot forming on her panties. He gently pressed his fingers against the fabric causing (Y/n) to squirm a bit, a gentle moan falling from her mouth.

“Oh, that’s such a pretty noise.” Billy purrs lowly in her ear. Standing from the floor, Stu lifts his fingers up to Billy’s mouth and without thinking, he opens it. The girl watches in awe, her clit beginning to throb at the way the two men were interacting with one another. Stu slowly pulls his fingers from the man’s mouth, biting his lip as the other man licks his. “Did you want a taste?” he asks in a deep tone. At the same time, they both lean over and begin to share a passionate and heated open mouth kiss. Little moans and grunts fall from them, a gasp falling from her own lips as Stu grips at her waist, beginning to grind against her front, his bulge slotted between her slit. Billy mimics his actions, grinding his cock against her ass. She was glad the two were holding her up, because at the current moment she wasn’t sure if her legs would work. This was a whole new world for her. She had never been kissed or even touched by one man let alone two. The noises falling from her mouth were completely out of her control, the sensation of their rhythmic rubbing along with the scene of them kissing above her was all too much for her to handle. 

As though they could hear her thoughts, they pulled away from their kiss, turning their attention back to her. She hadn’t even realized that the knife was completely gone now. If she wanted to, she could’ve ran and gotten away. If she wanted to. Billy gripped her arms once more, beginning to walk her over to the bed. She felt her face grow warm at the collection of stuffed animals, causing her to look at the ground. “They keep me warm at night.” she defended weakly. Stu laughed, cooing at her before picking one up and turning it to face the wall, repeating the action several times with the other one.

Billy groaned, annoyed. “Seriously?”

“What? I know how the girls get about that sort of thing.” As Stu continued with his antics, the brunette reached for his friend’s bag. (Y/n) eyed him curiously, thinking he had changed his mind on their deal but was relieved when all he pulled out was a bit of rope. Wait, rope? He tossed it up and down smirking at her before positioning himself behind her as he began to tie her hands together. ‘This is better than whatever they usually probably use this for.’ She tugged at the rope, the friction causing a mild irritation from the action. He pushed her a bit, causing her to fall forward onto the bed. Her ass was in the air while the upper part of her body fell down due to having no support. She listened to the sound of belts and pants clambering before feeling the bed dip down behind her. At that same time, a pair of legs kneeled in front of her as well. She felt as a hand carded it’s way through her hair before tightening, lifting her face to be eye level with a cock. Peering up, she saw that it was Billy.

“Are you gonna open up or am I going to have to do it for you?” he asked, causing a bit of panic to flash through the girl’s (e/c) eyes.

“S-sorry. I’ve never done any of this before.” she muttered, causing a whistle from behind her. She could imagine the grin on Stu's face.

“A cute virgin?! How lucky are we tonight? Oh this is going to be fun. I haven’t popped a cherry in quite a long time.” Stu gushed, rubbing his hands together. “I can barely contain myself!” her panties were then pulled to the side, long fingers beginning to rub all along her slick covered folds. She let out a whimper, her knees trembling as he began to rub circles on her clit. As he slid a finger in, her mouth fell open which Billy saw as the perfect opportunity. Gripping her hair a bit tighter, he began to slide his cock into her mouth slowly. He stared down at her face, watching as her mouth began to struggle with the girth of him, tears falling down her face.

“You better stop with all those tears, I really don’t wanna cum this early.” Billy teased, beginning to rock his hips back and forth. He hissed in pleasure at her tight and warm little mouth, tossing his head back as he let out a guttural moan. Behind her, Stu had managed to work the third finger in, stretching and scissoring them around.Gripping her hip with one hand, he used his other to glide his cock along her lips causing them to both moan. “Hurry up, I wanna pick up the pace but I’m trying to make it easier for you.”

“I’m going!” and with that, Stu slid his cock in with one swift motion. His grip on her hips tightened at the same time her walls did as he fell forward for a bit, head resting against the small of her back. “G-god, oh fuck! You’ve got a tight little pussy, huh?” he said through gritted teeth, beginning to pound into her at an almost animalistic pace. Her pussy drooled around his cock as she continued to moan around Billy, choking as he also picked up his pace. Their thrust were alternating. As Stu would pull his cock out some, Billy’s would enter her throat deep, barely giving her a chance to get used to anything. She had already came around his cock twice, the feeling being overwhelmingly pleasurable. 

They were using her like a doll, holding her up and angling her just right. All she could do was sob and take it, the only thing on her mind was their cocks and her life. She didn’t even care if she was going to die after this, this was the best thing she had ever experienced in her life. 

“You look so helpless when you cry. God, Stu I wish you could see her right now.” Billy moaned out, staring down into those wet (e/c) eyes. Picking up his pace, he gripped at her scalp, full on skull fucking her now. His thrust had grown sloppy and so had his counterpart’s. 

“Tr-trust me, my view is just as good. I’m cl-close!” he whined out, reaching a finger down to rub at the girl's sensitive and swollen clit. (Y/n) screamed around Billy’s cock sending him over the edge. Pulling out, he coated her face and hair in a load of sticky white cum. Watching Billy stroke his cock over her face pushed Stu over the edge as well, causing him to bounce her back on his dick, whimpering as he came deep inside of her. 

The room fell silent and as (Y/n) came to her senses, the question of the hour came back to haunt her. Was she going to live?

“Are you satisfied, Stu?”

“More than, man.”

“Well..” Billy trailed off, stepping off of the bed. As Stu pulled out, she felt cold and exposed. Both men stood behind her, staring as the load of cum began to roll down the back of her legs. The brunette reached forward, grabbing her wrist rather roughly before untying her. “I guess you live. We’ll be back. In the meantime, get cleaned up.” the sound of the doorbell ringing caused the two men to look out the window, thinking she had somehow managed to get in contact with help. However, they both relaxed at the sight of the delivery truck on the outside of the house. 

“Make sure you save me some chow mein!” Stu said. The girl rolled over on her back, letting out a breathless laugh watching as the two quickly got dressed. Before they headed for the bedroom door, Stu took her panties off of her, sticking them in the front pocket of his jeans. 

“For good luck!”

[neonovember]

Hello! I hope you’ve been doing okay! I saw that you had requests open and I also saw that you take requests for Carmen? If it’s totally okay of course to request for him! I got into the bear a few days ago and my brain has been filled with nothing but thoughts of Carmy. Would it be okay just requesting something that’s just Carmen being worried/concerned about the reader? He just always sees whenever there’s that tiredness to them when it looks like it’s a bad day, that slump in their shoulders that all too much reminds him of him a little sometimes, just bringing them into the office and his eyebrows are furrowed with that look of concern and his eyes the same, maybe unexpectedly just wrapping them in a hug (Your writing is so cute btw!) 💕

to carry and to bear

ask, it will be my infinite quest to fulfill! love this request so much and i loved writing is even more. i'm going to be so annoying when s2 comes out, especially since i love carmen's character so much! thank you for your request anon &lt;3

carmen berzatto x reader

warnings: richie (yes he’s a warning), unresolved anxiety, horrible customers, fainting

word count: 5k (short for me lmao)

a/n: you know i love a character when i'm completing fics in under a day..lets pray this momentum keeps going

Wrapping yourself tight against the chilly wind of the unforgivable Chicago weather, you watch the city coming alive in the early morning as you walk down the concrete sidewalk of the Beef’s city corner.

Merchants and gazebo have begun to set up shop, their bright red vendor stands a stark contrast to the grey haze of the windy city. Corner stores and cafes have begun to uncover their blinds, dusting away the sliver of droplets that had long since evaporated after a heavy downpour the night before.

it’s slow though.

The mass of cars and yellow cabbed taxis haven’t yet filled the gravel roads, and the surging rush of traffic and uncontrollable road rage the beef windows have been accustomed to viewing hasn't filled the air.

The pinch of cold begins to itch against the cracks in your outerwear. Your trusted winter jacket and gloves had been left at the bottom of your laundry basket and instead you were forced to throw on a flimsy polyester jacket that provided absolutely no warmth. 

Your fingers are stuffed into your pocket, trying to hide them from the cold but it is no use. They shake against the freezing air of wind as you push past huddles of men chain smoking and passing coolers of steaming coffee on street corners.

You’re about to go ask for a cup, despite Carmen's disgruntled comments of their huddled group festering near the restaurant. They were a pack of wolves, and whilst Sydney's sandwiches had fended them off for a while, the hole in the Beef’s window was still fresh. Like a cycle, more and more had begun to trickle in from alleyways, leading to customers steering clear from the nearby streets. 

Carmen didn’t even like you walking to work this early, you get it, despite being daylight, Chicago had a way of defying social norms. You had paid some attention to the increase in robbing and attacks that had begun to frequent news reports.

It wouldn't have been a problem, walking was always voluntary for you as you had a perfectly fine working car that would drive you to and from your destination with as little as a rumble from its engine. And yet, that seemingly perfect car decided to break down on you this morning, leading to an overheated engine and a smoke filled hood.

So not only did you have to pay for a towing truck to drag away your car to an auto shop you couldn't afford to afford, but you were late. And you hated being late.

Not to mention your sister had called you late last night, asking to stay for a couple nights after her good for nothing boy-friend you would rather call a child had kicked her out after a fight.

She had rambled for nothing short of 2 hours after you had gotten home from the Beef late last night, and the pull of sleep had begun to weigh on you. The exhaustion and deprivation had written itself in the slug of your limbs and the slump of your shoulders.

You had to come in today, there were no rest days even if the Beef wasn't neck deep in debt and Cicero didn't have you all on a leash. Especially if you wouldn't allow yourself one. You had that in common with Carmen, you frequently ignored your own needs for your craft, the same insatiable passion and need for perfection driving you to exhaustion. 

The familiar chime of the Beefs wooden doors hit your ears, and you shake off the cold of the city streets, the Beef is warm and you're grateful, sighing as the heat of prepped ovens and oiled pans defrosts your face. 

It takes a second before you walk into the busy kitchen when the sound finally reaches you. The screeching sound of Richie's voice bickers with Tina about the next door convenient store being turned into a “pretentious hipster coffee shop that is legally selling dog water to unassuming Chicagoans”.

Dragging on and on about the invasion of gentrification that will soon take out all the good businesses that had been around since his grandfather had come from Sicily. Richie was not from Siciliy. In which Carmen mirrors your thoughts and yells that he is not Italian, and his obsession with the European country has been bordering on creepy.

Ebra is reciting an article about a culinary student that had gone rogue and murdered their entire class, giving pointers on how he himself had to patch up an entire unit of people stabbed by a bent corkscrew. The loud conversations and untethered yelling across the kitchen combines with the malfunctioning arcade that has begun to re-circuit the same sentence for 20 minutes now, digs a deep burrow into your temple.

You stand at the entrance of the kitchen, watching the commotion of early morning prep with a tight grimace, your head begins to vibrate a little, the start of a headache you won’t be relieved from spreading and you have to swallow down the exhaustion that begins to seep in at the sight. 

Sydney brushes past you, greeting you with a hello and one of her charming smiles before muttering about throwing that arcade machine out the back. You giggle and it hurts, but you do it anyway because, fuck, you would help her.

You step into the kitchen, and the crew each turn to greet you good morning as you walk past them into the locker bay stuffing your bag and shoes into the cabinet before quickly changing. 

Your phone reads 7am and you stuff it into the pocket of your hung jacket before slamming the locker shut. Carmen peeks his head around the corner, nodding at you as you put on your non-slip shoes, calling your name when you don't notice, you flinch before peering up and Carmen waves trying to get your attention.

“Mornin’ chef, didn’t think you were coming in” Carmen remarks, raising his eyebrows as he leans his shoulder against the wall. 

“Morning, yeah, sorry about that, uh- shit happened and I had to deal with it all at once. Won;t happen again” You reply, biting back a yawn, before letting your feet fall to the ground.

“It’s all good,” Carmen replies, nodding, wiping his hand on the white towel hanging on his shoulder that was already smudged with stains.

“Just shoot me a text or call next time, yeah?” Carmen replies 

“Will do chef” You reply, smiling, before peering out to see Sydney carrying a basket of  ingredients

“New recipe?” You ask, nodding towards Sydney, and Carmen nods, running a hand through his curls as he leans forward.

“Well call it trying something. Not yet finished, just needs some minor tweaks here and there” Carmen replies

“I can help Sydney out if you want?” You reply without a second thought.

You already had prep and a marinade you had to make for Cicero’s function he had conveniently told Carmen about the night before, but helping out was second nature to you, it was a part of this family's culture.

Carmen shakes his head, his eyes falling to your slumped shoulder, and the slow but tight blinks you tended to do when you were exhausted.

The second he had peered his head around the corner and saw the slug of your limbs he knew something was up, but he also knew he couldn't force you to relax, you were worse than him, always taking on so much, filling up your cup until it was overflowing.

“No, no, it’s alright, besides, that marinade isn’t going to be easy, I should be asking if you want me to help out” Carmen replies, chuckling, scratching his neck as you curve your mouth into that smile he loves so much. You could be half-dead and he still stares at you like you were the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen.

“I think I’ve got it handled. I remember having to make something similar back at Le Bleu, you just got to get the temperature right or the entire thing gets spoiled. Having more than one person just makes it more confusing. besides, don't you have that meeting with the vendor today?” You reply, and Carmen sighs, nodding

“Yep, hopefully this place looks stable enough to get him to sign, you know I can’t deal with corporate bullshit. Sydney should’ve met up with them, fuck any one other than me” Carmen replies, shaking his head as he fidgets with the hem of his apron.

Despite his numerous accolades, and world renowned talent, he only ever felt at nature in the kitchen. High function parties and elusive dinner bars were things he despised, feeling out of place despite it being thrown in his name.

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself, you're the face of this place Carmen, you’ve transformed it, you oughta show them the Beef is the best investment they’ll make. Hell you’re the best investment they can make” You reply, and Carmen ears perk at your reply, smiling fondly at your comment. He didn't deserve your praise, and he hated the way the sound of your lips curving around his name shoots through him.

“Are y'all going to get to work or continue eye fucking?” Richie calls, as he passes by the locker bay, and Carmen immediately shakes his head muttering a fuck you before nodding to you, and heading back to his station. You get up from your seated position on the bench, dusting and ironing out the creases in your apron before mentally going over the things you had to complete before opening.

Prep vegetables, then start the veal stock for Cicero's marinade. You had to complete it early, since it had to be chilled for at least 5 hours, any less and the fat would congeal and turn into a complete mess you didn’t have time to fix.

You walk towards your station, stepping over sauce that had spilled onto the tile floors, this crew was amazing in their craft, but god were they messy. You bump shoulders with Sydney as you begin to grate and cut root vegetables and herbs, you have to force your eyes open, blinking several times before dipping your hand into an ice water bucket and wiping your face with it.

Sydney converses with you, and it wasn't that she was boring, in fact you both frequently spend time even out of the restaurant as friends. But you can’t even try to decipher what she says, just sounds coming out of her mouth that you pack away in order to get your job done. 

Just cut the vegetables, finish the stock, cut the vegetables, finish the stock, you repeat it like a mantra in your head, unaware at Sydney calling your name. She reaches forward, pressing a soft hand to your shoulder to get your attention.

“Hey, did you hear me?” Sydney replies, concern written across her features as she peers at your disoriented state.

“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” You reply, avoiding her gaze. You feel her penetrate through you, pitying the exhaustion on your face, probably realising you were a shit chef who couldn't even handle a couple responsibilities.

“I was asking if you could grab me some of the sauce I made yesterday from the storage fridge. You alright? You seem a bit..” Sydney starts, before you cut her off quickly

“Just had a long night, didn't get much sleep” You reply, rubbing your eyes with a hand. What has gotten into you? You weren't foreign to a few sleepless nights and a few too many deadlines you had to meet, hell your entire college and culinary life had been exactly that.

“That’ll kill you, you know” Richie butts in, reaching for a crab cake Sydney had prepared before being swatted away with a wooden spoon.

“What?” You ask, already regretting asking Richie to elaborate on what was clearly some elaborated story he had got stored away

“Go without that good old shut eye a few nights too long and you'll start hallucinating shit, not fucking with you you, don’t you know about the Russian sleep experiment-?” Richie rambles

“Ah here we go” Sydney replies, rolling her eyes 

“You think because you went to Paris or whatever prestigious tight ass school you know everything? It’s real, happened right after World War 2, Russians got a bunch of people and just made them not sleep for like months, they starting turning into fuckin' aliens and shit-” Richie continues, ignoring Sydney's sly remarks about Richie's facebook usage.

“Richie c’mon, you know that shits made up” You reply

“Don’t matter, didn’t I tell you about my week long bender during college? Starting seeing my great aunt from the corner of my eye, and I swear she is still there-” Richie replies before getting cut off my Carmen calling his name

“Stop distracting my chefs Cousin” 

You chuckle, shaking your head as Richie mutters about the fall of democracy and wipe your hands across your towel.

“I’ll go get your sauce Syd” You reply, and she smiles in gratitude as you turn towards the storage room. The cold air of the fridge wakes you up a little, and you rest your head against the door of the storage fridge, sighing in frustration. Talking to Richie was exhausting in itself, and when you were already running only fumes and second hand smoke you felt like it took the last bit of energy you had left.

You grab the container of sauce written with “DO NOT TOUCH” on its front, it's wrapped in cling film, with no lid and you're careful not to drop it everywhere. It wasn’t heavy, per se, just filled to the brim and without careful steps it was close to tipping out. You walk out of the storage room carefully, before turning towards your station.

“Corner!” You yell, twisting around the corner of the kitchen, before you slam straight into a tall body, jerking back and inadvertently spilling the sauce all across the kitchen floor and onto your shoes. You feel it sink into your socks and drip down your apron, eye twitching in frustration as Marcus starts apologising profusely, you ignore him, dropping down to your knees and reaching for paper towels. You start wiping away the sauce, as Marcus drops down to your level and tries to help, you shake our head looking up at him.

“Stop, Marcus, just stop. I can do it” You reply

“But-” Marcus protests

“We don't need two chefs to clean up a one person job, alright? You need to finish prep” You reply, letting the towels soak up the sauce. You grieve for Sydney, not all of it had spilt, but a quarter of a container wasn’t enough to get through the morning rush, let alone the entire day.

You ignore the spilt sauce all over your clothes, you didn’t have time to change now, rushing back to your station before telling Sydney about the spill

“You serious? I thought I could leave early today, got a friend's birthday” Sydney replies, pinching the bridge of her nose.

You instantly feel guilty, you should've been more careful, and now Sydney would have to pay for it.

“Hey, I got it, let me take that new recipe off your plate. That gives you enough time to get to the party?” You reply

Sydney looks up, rising her eyebrows “No, no I couldn’t possibly ask you to” 

“Nonsense, I owe you anyway, remember when I had to leave halfway through the morning to get my sister?” You reply, with a tired smile before Sydney wraps her arms around you, you rub a hand across her back. You can’t really feel her arms around you, it’s like all your senses are delayed, you ignore it as you get back to work, now with another task on your plate.

You finish chopping the vegetables after a short while, usually you were the fastest in the house, but today you lagged behind, finally carrying the vegetables to Carmen who looked at you strange, his eyes staring through you, he swallowed like he was going to say something as you walked away, before stopping and continuing stirring the stock on the stove

By the time the Beef opens, you're still elbow deep in work, you've stayed silent most of the time, waving off Marcus’s apology and instead working, not stopping since you started. You skipped breakfast, and you hadn't gotten a chance to eat, and just when you're about to make yourself something, Richie calls your name from the front counter.

You walk towards the front of the Beef, wiping stains on your apron to look a little presentable to the outside world. Richie stands at the register, flicking a pen in his hand, a look of annoyance on his face.

“What's up?” You ask Richie, as a tall man dressed down in a polo sweater and khakis stares down at you in anger. He’s familiar, someone you had served when Richie had to take his smoke break, and he scrutinises you as you smile at him.

That’s the only way you could communicate with these people, any hint of anger and you’d be written of as angry and unable to control your emotions, you lost your last job because you defended yourself anyway.

“This guy said he came in and you made him something he apparently didn't like, but finished anyway” Richie replies, a knowing look passes between you both and you sigh, you don't have time for this. 

“Morning Sir, May I ask what’s the problem” You ask politely

“You suggested to me a dish from the menu, alright, YOU, not me, so don't go blaming me for this, and look what I got, not only does it have nuts, which i hate, it's spicy. Way too spicy, I want a refund, NOW” The man replies, seething, his yelling catches the attention of other patrons, and Richie begins to reach under the table for a bat.

“Well, you finished it all so I don’t know what you-” You begin before the man cuts you off loudly

“Do you think I give a shift what you think? Huh? Jesus fucking Christ, see you just need to do what I fucking say, not argue. Give me a refund before I get you fired from this shit hole you dumb stupid-” The man yells, loudly before Carmen's booming voice cuts him off

“I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you” Carmen replies, clenching his jaw in way that told you he was trying to hold back the rage from spilling out

“Who the fuck are you?” The man asks

“I own this shit hole you piece of shit, and if you don't get the fuck out of my restaurant I'm going to break every single bone in your face with my bare hands". 

“Excuse me?”

Carmen laughs, shaking his head before smiling at the man

“I told you”

Carmen drags the man by his collar, throwing him onto the sidewalk and dragging his body to the alleyway, you fear what he is going to do and Richie raises his eyebrows in astonishment.

“Well shit cousin, you ain't a pussy after all” Richie mutters under his breath

You can faintly hear the sound of splitting skin and the crack of bone, before Carmen storms back into the restaurant, eyeing all the patrons who are following his every move.

“Y'all got that? Anyone mess with my people hear and your walk out on a fucking stretcher” Carmen replies still seething with anger, before Richie claps loudly as Carmen walks back behind the desk.

“Call a fucking ambulance” Carmen replies, rolling his eyes at Richie before he walks towards you, the the tension immediately leaving him as he find your safe and away from that man.

“You alright? He didn't hurt you or anything?” Carmen asks in concern, his eyes darting across your body to see any imagined injuries

“It seems you should be asking him that question” You reply, nudging towards the alley of the Bear, chuckling as you shake your head.

“You didn't have to do that you know, iIcould have-” You start

Carmen looks down at you in concern, shaking his head as he places his hand on you shoulder

“Could've what? He was screaming in your face and I wasn't about to let him think that shit was okay, god, how could you not react?” Carmen replies, looking down at you in concern, shaking his head as he places a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m just so busy, I still- Fuck, i still got to get Cicero's marinade in the fridge, and i need to start on Syd’s broth” You mutter pressing your fingertips to your temples.

“What? You’re doing Sydney’s load as well? Hey, you need to sit down a second” Carmen replies, as you begin to walk back towards the kitchen, with Carmen hot on your heels, asking you to stop and turn to him.

You hear him call your name, but the mountain of tasks that were now even later due to that customer had begun to seize your consciousness.

All you could focus on was the dishes you needed to make and the pain in your temples that had begun to spread down, your vision getting fuzzy around the edges as you try and shake yourself awake.

“Dammit, listen to me! Stop cutting fucking vegetables and listen to me” Carmen yells at you for the first time, twisting your body to face him and you spit out in anger

“What?!” 

“What’s gotten into you today?” Carmen replies, yelling

And you don't know why, but that question breaks something in you, and you can't help but let out a short chuckle. Carmen looks down at you in horror, trying to reach for you, to catch you when the inevitable happens and you look at him once before it does.

Before your vision begins to blur and the edges begin to burn like a flame, you try and catch yourself, but it’s too late and you fall into Carmen's arms, wrapped up against his chest as you crash.

Carmen gathers you in his arms, his heart breaking beneath his breasts, holding his sweet girl in his arms as the streams of tears dampen his shirt. The rest of the crew watch on in concern, and Carmen shoes them away as he carries your unconscious body to the office.

“What the fuck Cousin?” Richie calls

“Hey, hey, is she alright? What -what happened?” Sydney replies in horror as she watches Carmen carry you from the kitchen. 

“What happened was, ya'll did fuck all when she was practically breaking down trying to finish everyone else's fucking mess. What happened? Are you fucking serious? If i wasn't there, she would’ve fainted into a burning skillet of your fucking vegetables Sydney” Carmen replies, shaking his head, the entire crew goes silent, the only sounds coming from the beeps of ovens and stove tops, and the sizzling of burning food.

Carmen goes quiet, as he assesses your state, there is something unwritten in the way he holds you, and he blinks tight, his face twitching a little as if he had to make sure you were in his arms, the only place he wanted you to be.

“Get back to work” Carmen replies, quietly, a stark contrast to his rage from before, the crew has never seen him like this, his eyes and focus on you, as if he has been seized by this responsibility and dying need to protect you. He can hardly breathe, his arms shaking as he stares down at your sullen and tired face.

“We need-” Marcus starts before Carmen shakes his head

“No, no, enough. Sydney will hold down the fort, this is my responsibility. Get. back to work.” Carmen replies

—-

Carmen wastes no time to gently place your body onto the scuffed office couch, pressing a hand to your head, before reaching for an ice cold container of water, dipping a towel into it before gently pressing it to your forehead.

Carmen shakes his head in anger, he should've seen this coming, he should've noticed from the slump of your shoulder and your one word answers that you were stretching yourself too thin.

Carmen tortures himself as he replays the moments before you fainted into his arms. The way your features twisted into a sob, and the lasts shred of resolve snapped, and you had reached for him, you had reached for him.

You had reached for Carmen when you fell, and something in him broke when he had caught you.

Carmen had been used to his own self-destruction, but as he rested his thumb, rubbing circles and wiping away the tears on your face, he wished himself to change, not just for him, but for you. How could he? How could you be such a poor example to you? This was his own fault, and the reality of that conclusion twists like a knife to his gut.

His sweet girl, his Sunshine, who had thought the needs of this goddamn sandwich shop was more important than her own. You begin to stir in his arms, and the tension and shake of his arms begins to release as you wake up, Carmen eases you into consciousness when you begin to panic.

“Hey hey, I’m right here, you're okay, you're okay” Carmen replies softly, and you squeeze your eyes tightly, trying to understand what had happened and why you felt like your body was filled with lead.

"What, what happened” You reply, looking across the location of the office.

“You fainted, and I carried you to the office because you are not going back into that kitchen” Carmen replies, sitting up from his slumped position.

You stay quiet,  confusion lacing your features as you shake your head. You fainted? How did that even happen? You had never fainted in your entire life.

Carmen peers at you, his eyes dancing across your face as your silence frightens him, he wouldn't even recognise you, your usual bubbly, and incredibly chirpy self was not replaced by someone who was so exhausted they couldn’t stay conscious.

“You gotta talk to me baby girl, please, look at me, you can tell me, you can tell me anything” Carmen replies, softly, caressing your hand with his thumb when it begins to shake.

You look up at him, his expression of worry and concern causing your features to twist,

“I um, I’m just a little tired” You reply, the beginning of tears choking you, causing your words to rush out as  you try to stop yourself but it is fruitless, and Carmen eyebrows kind of pinch, he kind of frowns a little as he looks at you in that way.

It's all it takes before you sob, and sink into the coach. Carmen gathers you once again in his arms, and scoops your legs so that they lay across his thighs, and your head rests against his collarbone.

“I know baby, I know, I’m sorry, Oh honey I am so sorry” Carmen replies, rubbing your back as you let the last of your resolve sink into his chest, the cry of your tears leaving you speechless.

You can’t stop crying, the cup spilling over and making a big whole mess, snot and tears and heartache and exhaustion dirties Carmen's chef whites and you can't help but grip onto him like he is the only thing tethering you to Earth.

You don’t have to tell Carmen then, he knew the second you walked in, and he knows now when you hold him. There's a certain grief Carmen feels when he looks at you and sees himself, and in a way this is for Carmen too.

You sit like this for a while, you and Carmen. Wrapped in his arms as you lay across his lap, long after the tears had run dry, where you are left with hiccups and the soothing touch of Carmen's hand across your back.

It feels like you two are the only people on earth. Everything is Carmen; its all you smell, all you feel against your skin, all you hear as he whispers into you ear. No one dares to step into the office doors, even when an hour ticks by, even when the trickle of customers turns into a downpour and the orders never end, the family knows that you need this, that your health was better than money, or happy customers and fuck all.

Even after you have cried your eyes out, the responsibility of work begins to weigh on your body, you still had so much to do with so little time

“But the marinade, and- and Sydney's” You begin before Carmen cuts you off with a soft squeeze.

“Richie’ll handle it, and if he doesn't Cicero can go fuck himself. You really think I’m going to let that override you right now? Just forget about the kitchen alright, can you do that for me, pretty girl?” Carmen replies

You nod, the burden that had exhausted you to sickness lifted from your shoulders. You look towards the clock and realise the vendors were coming soon to meet with Carmen, something he couldn’t miss.

“The vendors, aren't they-”

“They came in 3 hours early, it's why it took me so long to get to you when that asshole was throwing a fit” Carmen replies, knowing what you were asking for.

You peek at him in question “Well?”

“They signed.” Carmen replies, rolling eyes and smiling at your delighted squeal

“What did I tell you? Carmen Berzatto is more than-” You start before a yawn stretches through you.

“Alright, alright, enough talking from you. When’s the last time you ate?” Carmen asks

You stop and scratch your head, trying to think and you laugh a little when you can’t remember.

“I don't know” You reply

Carmen’s eye twitches, and he smiles down at you before easing you off his thighs and onto the coach. 

“What- what are you doing?” You ask, not even trying to hide the sadness in your voice. You already miss the heat of his chest warm against your cheek.

Carmen smiles softly as he looks down at you, threaded a hand through his head as he wipes down the creases on his apron.

“I’m making you something”

“What? No it’s- it’s okay I’ll eat at family” You reply, reaching a hand out to him

Carmen reaches for your palm, pressing a soft kiss on your the skin of your knuckles before reaching down to kiss the top of your head.

“No you need to eat now, alright? You're going to sleep the rest of the day, and then, and then, you're coming back to my place so I can keep an eye on you. You gonna listen to me or protest?” Carmen replies, eyebrow raised as he crosses his arms. His voice drops down an octane, like it was a command, and you have to bite back the desire floating in your stomach at the way he looks down with his eyes all heavy from above. 

“Okay, alright, whatever you say Chef” You reply with a smile, and Carmen sinks his teeth into his bottom lip when you say it like that.

“Just wait a sec” Carmen replies, and as he is about to leave you call for him again

“What are you even making, half the ingredients are gone” 

“It’s no problem, it’s your recipe anyway” Carmen replies, with a hint of a smile on his face before he leaves the room. It takes you a while, half because you're exhausted and the other half because you're hungry before the realisation hits you that he's made a recipe for you, about you. 

You can't help the smile that stretches across your face, goddamnit Carmen Berzatto, and you say you aren't a romantic.

[mypimpademia]

— The Teacher (pt. 2)

Single dad! Gojo x Fem! Preschool teacher! Reader

Synopsis: Little Megumi wonders if you’re his new mom, and Gojo finds himself wondering the same thing.

TW: None

Note: click/tap here for part 1! or Click/tap here for part 3! I forgot to mention it in the first part, but ig it was kinda implied, Gojo is 29 in this not a teen like he was in canon. Gojo is also very briefly implied to get around

⇶ Satoru stuck to his promise of taking you out

⇶ He left Megumi with Utahime for the night, and made sure that everything was perfect for you

⇶ Truthfully, he went a little overboard out of his own anxiety

⇶ Booked reservations for one of the nicest restaurants in town, deep cleaned his house (just in case), got his already clean car detailed, bought a new suit despite having many hardly-worn ones in his closet, stalked your socials for hints at what you might like, and more that he’d be far too embarrassed to ever admit to

⇶ Satoru picked you up from your house at 6 pm, knocking on your door with a giant bouquet of flowers in hand

“You look incredible.”

Those were the only words Satoru could come up with when he saw you.

He always thinks you look incredible, but seeing you all dressed up outside of your usual work attire was a nice change of pace, and you looked effortlessly beautiful.

“Thank you, Toru,” you beamed. “You look pretty,” you told him, scanning over his tall figure, clad in a deep blue suit.

‘Toru’, ‘pretty’. He nearly passed out on your porch.

Satoru smiled, clearing his throat in an effort to gather his bearings as he fought back the deep blush that was crawling up his face.

“For you, mon chéri,” he said, in a corny fake French accent, presenting the large bouquet of flowers to you.

They were neatly wrapped in a brown paper, and tied off with a white bow. From just the look of it, you could tell they were expensive.

“These are my favorite,” you gasped, taking them from him. “How’d you know?”

He stalked your instagram and found a post from a year ago where you said you loved them.

“Lucky guess,” Satoru smiled. “Y’ready to go?”

⇶ He led you to his shiny black sports car, opening up the door for you to get in

⇶ It even smelled expensive, and the fresh scent of car shampoo was still lingering. You could tell he had it cleaned just for this, but didn’t say anything

⇶ When you got to the restaurant, out of place was an understatement for how you felt

⇶ You were just happy you decided to dress nicer than you had originally planned

⇶ Looking around, the restaurant was beautifully decorated, and the people dining were dressed just as beautiful

⇶ The more time you spent with Satoru, the more that you realized you knew next to nothing about him

⇶ Where does he get all this money from? What does he do for a living? Who is he, really? And what’s up with the sunglasses?

⇶ You will admit, the mystery only made him all the more attractive, but you had a newfound determination to peel back his layers

⇶ But your first date might not be the best time for that, so you were willing to let things unfold naturally for now

⇶ Satoru insisted that you ordered whatever you want off the menu because he was paying, and ignored your protests

⇶ You hopped around different topics of conversation throughout dinner, and you did eventually make it to the subject of work

⇶ Satoru asked you what exactly made you want to teach preschool, or teach at all, and watched your eyes light up

⇶ Teaching was undoubtably a job you need to have a passion for, and you had more than enough passion for it

⇶ You told him that you’ve always had an interest in teaching, and loved kids and thought they were precious, sacred even, and that their early years are the best part to watch and be a part of

⇶ Satoru’s heart was getting ready to leap out of his chest just watching you talk about something you love so much

‘She’d make a great mom for Megs…’

⇶ The thought surprised even him, Satoru wasn’t sure if it was genuine or intrusive, but it had him glancing at your features and around him to make sure he hadn’t accidentally said it aloud

⇶ He told you that all the kids were lucky to have you, and that seeing you take care of Megumi and all those kids with ease made him feel like his worries from adopting were pointless

⇶ He glazed over the adoption part so easily, you almost missed it

⇶ Sure, you were more than well aware that Satoru was a single father, and when you saw that his last name was different from Megumi’s, you just assumed it was his mothers last name

“It is his mothers last name, but he’s not at all my biological kid. I adopted him from… a friend.”

⇶ You had removed a layer from Satoru, only to find how thin it was in comparison to the amount he had left

⇶ The revelation answered some of the questions you had, and left you with even more at the same time

⇶ Just based on the hesitation he showed, you knew better than to press any further, and changed the subject

⇶ The rest of dinner went smoothly, and you and Satoru once again went back and forth about the bill before he was calling the waiter back to take his card

⇶ On the drive back, Satoru asked if you wanted to see Megumi since Utahime’s house was in the same direction as yours

⇶ You said yes, because of course you wanted to see Megumi, and because it was getting harder and harder for you to say no to Satoru

⇶ When you arrived at Utahime’s, Megumi lept at you before he even said hello to Satoru

⇶ Satoru feigned being hurt by the action, but Megumi still payed him no mind, directing all his attention to you

⇶ Satoru thanked Utahime for watching Megumi, and you overheard her saying something about not dumping his kid on her again

⇶ Megumi had you sit in the backseat with him, and told you about all the stuff he did at Utahime’s

⇶ All the sudden, he asked why you and Satoru were all dressed up

“Did you guys go on a date?”

You and Satoru shared a questioning look through the rear view mirror, one that asked ‘Should we tell him?’.

“Sure did little man!” Satoru told him, but Megumi didn’t seem too surprised by his answer.

“Oh, Dad goes on a lot of those,” Megumi said, before going back to playing with the plastic dinosaur in his lap.

Satoru was rethinking all his life choices in that moment. He gulped back the saliva that had pooled in his mouth, already going over how exactly he could explain that to you later on.

To his surprise, he heard you laugh at Megumi’s comment.

“But I’m your favorite, right?” You asked the boy, playfully nudging him. He turned to you with big wide eyes and smiled.

“Yup!”

⇶ Dropping you off at your house, Satoru thanked you for letting him take you out, and haphazardly tried to apologize for Megumi’s little comment and explain himself

⇶ You told him it was fine, and thanked him for the night, hugging him and planting a kiss on his cheek

⇶ Satoru froze up at the action, but managed to say bye to you as he collected himself and you disappeared into your house

⇶ When he and Megumi got back home, Satoru made a point to explain to Megumi why he couldn’t just throw out information like that to people, especially you

⇶ While putting on the boys pajamas in the dimly lit dinosaur themed room, Megumi yawned out a question

“Hey, dad,”

He spoke through a yawn while rubbing his eye with his fist. Satoru hummed back in acknowledgment, straining out the bottom of the little boy’s pajama shirt

“Is Ms. L/n gonna be my mom?” Megumi asked, looking at Satoru with low, sleepy eyes.

Satoru thought back to the statement that popped into his head during dinner. You would make a great mom for him.

“Um,” Satoru started, tucking Megumi underneath his comforter. “I dunno yet.”

He was honest. He didn’t know if what he was feeling for you was real or if he was just in over his head.

“I hope she is,” Megumi muttered, huffing out as his breathing turned into soft snores.

“Me too, Megs.”

—

Taglist: @megurulvr @miirene @planetlunaa @kazuminari @goldenglow149 + @torusmochi

Send in a ask or DM me to be added to all taglists, or fill out my form to be added to select ones.

—

Thank you for reading, comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[disneyprincemuke]

oscar's logan's girl * ls2 op81

oscar truly never thought he would ever see the girl that was the cause of his first ever heartbreak

pairings: logan sargeant oscar piastri x fem!reader

notes: first of all, i want to thank everyone for liking the first part to this huhuhu i PERSONALLY think this is one of the fics i've written for an individual driver that has gotten this much feedback and responses... i never thought, in the 6 hours it took me to write that, that people would even like it so much... thank you for the kind words u guys <;/3

and now i would like to apologise if this did NOT go the way you thought it would... i couldn't bear hurting either logan or oscar, and holding grudges seemed like such an unlikely thing for a man of oscar's caliber... sorry if it doesn't go the way you thought <;/3

word count: 2.3k

(oscar's girl) // (f1 masterlist)

you let out the heaviest sigh, clutching onto the almost empty mercedes cup in your hand. you look over your shoulder, watching lily and carmen walk away without you in the direction of where the boys would be.

you stare at the unfamiliar, yet somehow most familiar, pair of brown eyes boring into your own. in the back of your mind, you remember the hushed giggles and how his hand used to feel in yours while you were in the streets of melbourne. you can almost remember what he sounded like when you were just kids, and the man that stands in front of you barely looks like what you remember of him.

you were devastated when you lost oscar's phone number. when you moved away to inevitably stay in the united states, you had every single intention of keeping the friendship with oscar. you just needed a week of settling in. you barely made any other meaningful friendships worth keeping in melbourne; all except the one that you had developed with oscar.

arguably, you could have done more to find him again. you could have gone on instagram, or any other social media site to try and keep the friendship alive. but you thought, after all those tears you shed before your departure, it would be better to stay away.

you only ever thought of oscar once in the past couple of years. the night before your first date with logan: you couldn't fall asleep from the nerves and anxiety. you had gotten along well over the phone, the williams driver playing his cards right every single time he would send you a text message and had your cheeks hurting from smiling too much and kicking your feet in the air.

you came across pictures of you and the young boy in melbourne, tucked away in a dusty photo album that you kept stored under your bed. you don't reminisce much: the memories you had up until you were 16 are a blur in your head. too much had happened, and the only memory that you keep with you is the fact that you moved around more than the average person.

"it's been a while," you finally speak, readjusting your shirt. the wet patch on your shirt, now slightly cold from the weather, your jacket doesn't really do much now to keep you warm. "how have you been?"

you can physically see the gears in oscar's head turn. his eyes bore into yours as he contemplates what he will say to you. if this had happened sooner after you had stopped talking to him, he would know what to say to you. because he spent his nights, and logan's mornings, talking about what he would say to you.

oscar presses his lips into a thin line. he has two choices now: unload the frustration he's forgotten about as he grew into an adult, or just be civil with the girl he could have sworn was the love of his life at 14. you never left his mind, even after all of these years, up until the moment that he met his now girlfriend, lily. he's a firm believer that you would have lasted forever if you had just stayed.

"i've been good. i'm a race car driver now," he smiles, gesturing to the paddocks around him. he's just going to try and ignore the fact that you're dating his literal best friend. "i told you."

you throw your head back with a laugh, making oscar drop his smile in the slightest of ways. he feels his chest close in on itself at the sound you're making. sometimes he fears that he'd never truly gotten over you, but that seems more like an overreaction in normal circumstances.

oscar wasn't aware of the fact that it could very well be the truth right now.

"you always did tell me you're going to be a racer," you agree with a smile. you remember going along with him to an obscure go-kart establishment once when you were growing up. it simply wasn't your thing, but you supported him through and through even as a young 14-year-old. "small world, huh?"

oscar nods with a small smile. "so, um. what happened?"

you tilt your head. "what do you mean?"

"you stopped answering my text messages out of the blue one day after you moved," oscar laughs softly, shrugging. "did i do something wrong? what happened?"

you sigh, closing your eyes as it hits you. there is something about the way his eyes are turned down slightly, and it doesn't take a genius to tell that he's trying to smile through whatever emotion he is feeling.

and you understand it if you were to put yourself in his shoes. it's genuinely all on you: you had promised that you wouldn't drift away from him before you left. you promised him, back then, that there would come a time that would bring you back together to give your relationship a fighting chance.

keeping in contact was very essential to that promise.

you don't think of oscar. but now that you do, you can see the scene of when you were about to leave playing vividly in your head. he had asked you for one simple thing: not to drift away so that someday, you can meet again and give yourselves a real fighting chance.

because realistically, at 14, there was not much to fight for but the overwhelming surge of emotions you have for something that is often categorised as puppy love.

but oscar knew even then that there was definitely something more.

"i dropped my phone in the lake. i got a new phone and a new number," you whisper dejectedly, trying to avoid the intensity of his stare. and you're prepared to receive the brunt of his anger, understandably so after you had unintentionally ghosted him. "i'm sorry. in hindsight, i should have done more to reconnect with you - social media is powerful, after all."

oscar nods, his lips pressed into a polite smile. though you can notice him clenching his jaw as he tries to force himself not to cause a scene in such a public setting.

a setting where your boyfriend, his best friend, would be involved. and his girlfriend who doesn't deserve this type of scandal tied to her name.

"we were just kids," oscar shrugs. but there's a bitterness in his mouth that he cannot ignore for too long. there is a bubbling urge from the deepest part of his gut to scream at you for all those days he swore he was going to go crazy from the pain of suddenly losing you. "i was bummed, though, when i lost you."

bummed is an understatement. the degree to which he grieved is unspoken between him and logan.

he doesn't blame logan for being overprotective of him when lily started to come into the picture. he was sat down by the american, by the sidewalks during their morning run, asking him to think long and hard about this.

it's the only time they had spoken of the instance that oscar almost lost himself. oscar waved off his concerns and said he was sure of what he has with lily, and that's a decision that he is still very proud of.

"i was devastated. but i was also scared," you whisper with a smile. "we were 14, but what i felt for you at the time... it was bigger than us, oscar. we had no fight against something like that."

oscar smiles. "logan is good to you, i hope?"

"we only just got together a couple months ago," you nod, "but he is amazing."

oscar nudges his head towards the direction that lily and carmen had walked towards earlier. you hop off your spot to catch up as he starts to walk by his side. "i've got a girlfriend of my own now. her name's lily too."

"doesn't that get confusing when you're all together? with alex's girlfriend and yours?"

"sometimes. but we don't hang out with the older drivers often," oscar admits with a scrunch of his nose. you have to bite back a laugh at his habit, seeing that it's something that has never left him. "it's a bit awkward. logan and i are typically together more often than not."

"how come?"

"we've only got each other," oscar shrugs. " we met at a karting race when we were really young. we kept in contact when we were apart. i think i may have told you about him a couple of times - my best friend living in florida."

you purse your lips, trying to rake at your brain for a time that oscar said that to you. unfortunately, your memory doesn't go that far back into the details of what you had. "wow. there's a lot i must have forgotten. i didn't know you went way back."

oscar smiles. with the little bit of resentment he has towards you, he completely understands (at his big age) why you don't seem to remember it as well as he did.

which is why he hated that he fell in love with you. he had made you his world and the meaning of his life, causing him to fall apart and crack at your goodbye.

you were an integral part of his life, but he was just a sliver of a memory in one of the places you had stayed in for a year or two. it had taken a while to start seeing it the way he does now. he hated you for what you did for years until everything started to fall into place for him in his head.

suddenly he understood why you were hesitant to befriend him in the first place. it must not have been easy to keep leaving friends behind.

"nah, it's alright. if i had such unstable environments like you did growing up, i'd have turned out much worse than you," oscar laughs. "did you move again after you moved to washington?"

you nod again. "one more time. we moved to la after three years - you know my dad. but it wasn't as severe as moving end to end of the world from australia to the united states, i guess."

"ba- oh." you calmly turn to the side, beaming when logan approaches you with confusion on his face. "i was looking for you all over the place. lily and carmen told me you ran into an old friend?"

logan had noticed oscar before you, the bright papaya orange that oscar sports all year around is not easy to miss. "i see you met oscar! what a coincidence."

"yeah, we," you laugh, rolling your eyes playfully as you meet him halfway, "funny enough, babe. we used to go to school together. in melbourne when my dad had business there when i was younger."

oscar presses his lips together, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet. he knows it won't take long for logan to complete the puzzle.

"oh?" logan furrows his eyebrows at you, one hand on your back protectively. "small world. oscar's actually my best friend - he's on the family fridge back in florida."

"yeah, he mentioned!" you beam, wrapping your arms around his. "who would have thought that the oscar you keep talking about is the same one i know?"

logan smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "right! so this is my guest for the weekend, man. my girlfriend - we met over the winter break. i can't believe you guys go way back! this makes it so much easier, doesn't it?"

oscar wants to run away. doesn't matter where, or how he will get there, because all he can focus on is the way you're leaning into logan's touch and the way logan's smile is so bright that it could be seen by the stars.

you clearly just had that effect on people. he's just another one of those people who fell for the welcoming aura you emit.

"did you guys know each other well?" logan asks.

oscar shares a glance with you. but he knows logan, more than you, perhaps. if logan finds out the history that you share, he will not be able to live with himself. he would leave you, leaving all three of you devastated.

so as you open your mouth to respond excitedly, oscar speaks over your mutter. "not really, just had a couple of classes together," oscar lies with a smile. he reluctantly settles for logan's excitement instead of your confusion. "we bumped into one another, i thought she looked familiar."

"oh, yeah! have you got an extra shirt i could borrow? i spilled coffee all over my top," you laugh, pulling down the zip of your jacket slightly to show him the patch.

"mate, i need to go and find lily," oscar says, reaching out to pat his friend on the shoulder. "i'll see you tonight. dinner afterwards, right?"

truthfully, he wants to ditch it. but you were both 14. it's not fair to keep holding it against you when all the odds were stacked against you both.

"absolutely. i'll see you tonight, man," logan smiles, waving at him as he walks away.

he can briefly hear your conversation as he fought all urges to turn around and glance at you.

"are you sure you want to borrow my shirt? i've only got my williams team shirts in my driver's room. i can ask someone to go out and find you one, if you'd like."

"no, of course not! i want everyone to know i'm with the williams driver, you know? announce it to the world."

logan sounds so into you, and he can't fault him for that. you've got a way with people that just reel them in. he should know - he was one of those people that were wrapped around your finger.

oscar's girl, as logan would tease during karting when he was resigned to a corner to text you after the race.

but in his head, you will always be his girl, because that's what he used to call you. that's the memory of you that will live in his head forever.

@myxticmoon @fangirl-dot-com @f1enthusiastsstuff @barnestatic @ladywhistledownx @holy-macncheese-balls @lightdragonrayne @almostjollypizza @sleepybrokenmelle @flyclaren @sagestack @de1u1ugyal @starssfall @cherry-piee @cstads-blog @renarots @strrgirlxqs @uuoozzii @bringbacktim @esposamultifandom @ssprayberrythings

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

As per usual, info under the cut <3

IM BACK BITCHES!!!

Alright, here's the design stuff:

I wanted to go for kind of a Lois Lane vibe, including the way she gets all the way up in business she should not be up in. At the same time I wanted to bring the super cutesy gothic lolita style in at least a little. So I ended up going with a poofy short jumpsuit with bows and teddy bears. I would love to make a specific thank you to @themooncallsyou for suggesting I look at the Moschino 2022 spring line for inspiration, it ended up having a very heavy impact on the final design.

I tried to lean into the investigative part of investigative reporter, so that's what the heavy coat is about. I thought adding that classic detective silhouette would be a nice final touch. Plus, I think Blondie likes the drama of the coat flying behind her as she's chasing down a lead. It makes her feel very cool.

Alright, so her original pet is a bear cub named Grizz but I have. Several problems with that. The main one is that it's not clear what the difference between Grizz and the actual sentient bears and her story is. There is never any differentiation between them. It's a Goofy-Pluto situation. Like it doesn't need to be explained, but the minute you start thinking about it too hard it gets weird real fast.

Anyways say hello to Honey the magpie!! Magpies are great mimics and lovers of shiny things, so I thought one would be a perfect fit for Blondie. She repeats bits of gossip and steals little trinkets and clues to help Blondie with whatever case she's on. Honey is where Blondie gets her infinite supply of bobby pins. Her scale is a little off, I don't think magpies are actually that big, but I still think she's cute so I'm not changing it now lol.

Now for character stuff:

Honestly I'm not really changing anything as much as I am exploring what's already there. I think Blondie has the potential to be really interesting, because she's unique within the class system of the school. She's kind of the inverse of Raven status-wise. Raven was born to royalty, but because her mom is the Evil Queen she's actually considered a commoner by society. Blondie was born to a wealthy commoner family, but her fear of rejection leads her to exaggerate the prestige of her lineage. Everyone sort of knows that she's not a Princess but she's so desperate to keep up the image of royalty that no one knows where she actually lands. Most of the royals assume her parents are Lord and Lady or Duke and Duchess or something. In reality they don't have any noble title, and Blondie is very insecure about that.

Blondie isn't so much ashamed of her family as she is terrified of exclusion and rejection. Her standing in society is the one major thing that makes her different from all the other royals, but she has major anxieties that she's always on thin ice. In her mind she's permanently one wrong step from total ostracization.

On a happier note, she does have a genuine passion for journalism! She considers her news blog/podcast practice for her future career. She starts out discussing school drama and gossip, but tries to stay a neutral third party. That's why her hair is so big. It's full of secrets. As the story goes on she starts reporting on more political and social topics beyond the boundaries of the school (and therefore becomes one of Milton Grimms worst nightmares). She is really, really, really good at getting into shit people do not want her to get into. She's got her eyes on prize and good luck stopping her

[neverwalka1one]

I got to see Wicked last night, and whoo boy I have thoughts. Cut for spoilers, you've been warned.

I'm looking forward to seeing the 'Good News' song at the end of the second movie - Glinda already looked conflicted about the Giant Elphie Effigy (good lord those munchkins work fast)

Also, I thought the movie highlighted better that those in Munchkinland knew Elphaba her whole life, and this is still how hard they bought in to the propaganda.

The little hint that Glinda's bubble is all mechanics. Chef's kiss.

Glinda's bubble has a Designated Landing Place. Just. Consider all that implies, with Glinda having been until very recently the Wizard's goodwill ambassador.

'Take it away' will never not be heartbreaking. Also, of course Elphaba is going to grow up a fierce defender of animal rights, she was raised by a talking animal, and that bear was the only one to be kind to her consistently through her childhood. Dafuq.

Baby!Nessa!Rose's little meeps. Just. I died.

'Oh, they're going to miss me.' Galinda I love you you ridiculous gal.

I like this twist on why Elphaba was at Shiz. I loved the way she so desperately wanted to go, but couldn't ask for herself. I loved her trying to defend Nessa Rose's independence... and then still being blamed for stifling her. Excellent.

Also did y'all see the picture of the animals behind the cracked and fallen fresco of the Wizard in that scene? Foreshadowing my beloved.

Galinda writing a little 'it's great' card put on top of the saddest pile of bedding you've ever seen.

'What is this Feeling?' omfg. I loved Elphaba putting her foot down about the roommate situation.

I also liked that they moved Elphaba's talk with Dr. Dillamond off-campus. It makes more sense that this status-quo challenging talk would be done away from the powers that be.

Also it sets up Fiyero running into Elphaba (literally) better, and omfg. I love that horse, he's great, more horse in the second movie please.

Omg Galinda flirting. And Fiyero flirting back, but Galinda (and Elphaba) missing that at that point Fiyero was flirting with pretty much everyone because hey, it's fun, it's easy, and it works.

On that note, Fiyero flirting successfully with the librarian. <3

The whole Ozdust scene. All of it. The outfits, the dancing, the prolonged social anxiety/social embarrassment. The way Elphaba refuses to show she's been hurt. The way Galinda finally understands that. THE DANCE APOLOGY.

I did find it a little weird that one of the only lines cut from the musical was the 'Lemons and melons and pears. Oh my' bit between Boc and Nessa Rose.

Also can we talk about how excellent Jonathan Bailey is as Fiyero?

'Popular' is, as always, fantastic. And highlights just how good Galinda is going to be at the politics of this world.

'That might be your secret, but that doesn't make it the truth' AUGH GALINDA just rip out my heart why don't you.

I liked that when Elphaba rescues the lion cub, she's more restrained/talented than in the beginning of the movie. It makes sense, she's been learning all this time.

THE BIKES. THE LION CUB IN THE BIKE BASKET. THE WIZARD OF OZ CALLBACK. LOVE.

The mushroom things during 'I'm Not That Girl', idk what those were but they were so so pretty lord I love the world-building.

That scene of Nessa Rose, Boc, Galinda, and Fiyero all together, and Elphaba on the outside in the dark. Fiyero looking out over the courtyard as he's being pulled away. Augh, all of it.

The way the students turned on a dime the second Elphaba got that invitation.

That. Train. Steampunk my beloved.

Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth getting singing roles, YES, THANK YOU, that was such a great surprise, I was squeaking like bebe Nessa Rose.

On the flip side... sigh. I called it. Jeff Goldblum was... very Jeff Goldblum. That guy, while a lot of fun, is the exact same character in pretty much everything he's been in for the last few years. I still think that casting was a mistake. Hear me out: The original Wizard was Joel Grey. Joel Grey was also the Emcee in Cabaret. ... so tell me it wouldn't both be great casting and an awesome call back to have casted Alan Cumming as the Wizard. I can't have everything I guess.

Also, and it might be just me/the effects of a late night screening, but when Elphaba and Galinda are walking into the palace, with the doors slamming behind them, and there's a scene with the torchlit hall behind them? Didn't the fire look like how the flames in the original Wizard of Oz movie looked? Just sort of... fuzzier and blurred than how film tends to pick up fire these days? It might have just been me.

Also this movie does have a bit of the Les Mis problem - you've got some cast members with serious vocal chops... and theeeeeen there's the ones that... tried hard. Great actors every single one, but would it have killed the director to find people for those roles that could match vocally as well? This movie doesn't need big names. We're not going for the big names, people.

I liked how the movie explained better why the Wizard not being able to read from the Grimorie was such a big deal.

The monkeys. Oh, the flying monkeys. Also the scene of Madam Morrible framed by flying monkeys. Thanks for breaking my heart.

'Defying Gravity'. All of it. Every bit of it. Holy. Shit. Holyshit. HOLY. SHIT.

So yeah, I'm going to have to see it eleventy-billion more times before it leaves theaters.

[fantasyescapes17]

Wings (Part 1)

Your debut in society was as spectacular as one could be, but nobody had prepared you for what came afterward. When you find yourself overwhelmed during your very first season and unable to keep up with the rat race to secure yourself an eligible husband, a curious mentor appears- in the form of notorious flirt and self-proclaimed rake, Mr. Kim Mingyu.

Genre: Mingyu x Female!reader. Regency!AU (It's sort of Bridgerton-esque in the sense that I give zero attention to historical accuracy and prioritize aesthetics lmao) You are Jeonghan's sibling so your last name is Yoon but the reader has no other physical characteristics.

Warnings: Reader frequently displays signs resembling (undiagnosed) social anxiety.

Word Count: 5k+

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Series Masterlist [You WILL need to read Patience, the earlier installment in this series first in order to understand the character dynamics in this story. Reading Candle before this is also strongly recommended.]

Your mother's grip on your arm was painfully tight. 

Today was, after all, one of the most important days of her life. Mrs. Yoon had presented one of her daughters at court a few years earlier (your elder sister) but the stakes were much, much, higher with you. 

"I never had much hope for your sister," your mother said dismissively as she fussed with the exquisite fabric of your dress. The heavily embroidered gown had been custom-ordered for today; the day of your presentation. Being presented in court before the queen was a vital ceremony that every marriage-minded young lady undertook to enter society as a debutante.

"Mother…" you said patiently, but she ignored you, too caught up in her own nerves to notice your discomfort. 

"I knew that your sister would cause trouble and look what she did- courting a widower-oh! I cannot bear to think of it. Thank goodness she is not here to ruin your debut. My darling, you have no need to worry. You are far more beautiful than your sister, and your manners are sweet and reasonable. You will make us very proud."

You may have been sweet and reasonable, as your mother liked to put it, but you were not ignorant. The weight your mother had placed on your shoulders to make a splash during your debut social season and snatch up an eligible gentleman was not easy to carry. 

Neither was the dress you wore that weighed about two tons. 

"We are next," your mother released your dress and turned her attention to your hair. "Remember what I taught you. Walk slowly and confidently. Keep your face lowered but not so low that they can't see your pretty features, and-"

Your mother did not have time to finish. The man at the entrance to the royal throne room announced your name loudly. 

"Miss Yoon, presented by her mother, Mrs. Yoon!"

Your chest tightened. Taking a deep breath, you walked forward slowly and gracefully in the same way that you had practised hundreds of times at home. The large hall was filled with quietly chattering members of the ton. The most elite society of London had their eyes on you. 

You did not look around the grand hall in fear of setting off your fragile nerves. Instead, you chose a spot on the velvet carpet at the foot of the Queen's throne and fixed your gaze firmly on it as you walked forward. You finally reached the throne and bowed deeply. 

"Hmm," the Queen said as she observed you. You did not dare lift your eyes to look at her. "A pretty little thing. She will do well."

Relief. 

You could almost feel your mother's delight radiating from a few steps behind you as you bowed once more to the queen and turned to leave. The walk back felt much easier. Although the dress was just as heavy as it had always been, some of the imaginary load had been shed and your shoulders felt lighter. 

The presentation had gone well. 

Or at least, it had not gone badly. 

Your mother embraced you once you were outside and you allowed yourself to slump against her in a mixture of exhaustion and relief. You had been dreading, dreaming and preparing for this day for weeks, and it was finally over. 

"Sister!" Jeonghan hurried out to greet you. You beamed at the sight of your half-brother. 

"Was I all right?" you asked hopefully. 

"You were excellent," Jeonghan promised you with a smile. He was accompanied by his newly wedded wife; a cheerful young lady who had been very kind and welcoming to you since your arrival in London. 

"You were the most beautiful young lady in the room," your sister-in-law told you excitedly. "The Queen only spoke to two of the other girls- so you were certainly one of her favourites. Her Highness never said anything to me during my debut," she added with a laugh. 

You found that difficult to believe. Jeonghan's wife was incredibly beautiful and charming. 

"Thank you so much-"

"All right, it is time we took our leave," your mother interrupted stiffly. 

It was no secret that your mother did not like her step-son, and she disliked his new wife equally. Your sister-in-law had unwittingly usurped your mother’s position as the lady of the Yoon household. The two women clashed on multiple subjects and could not seem to agree on anything- from the colour of the upholstery to the treatment of household staff. 

You preferred not to be caught in the middle of that particular storm. 

Jeonghan nodded. "Then we will see you at dinner. Congratulations, sister. The most difficult part is over. You will have a wonderful season ahead of you."

If only your brother had known how terribly mistaken he was. 

—-----------------------------------------------------

Dear sister,

I have heard from Jeonghan that your presentation at court was spectacular. I expected no less from you. You are undoubtedly one of the most beautiful young ladies this season. I am sorry I could not be there, but mother insists that I stay away from London for fear that my status as a spinster will raise questions and cast a shadow over your prospects.

Do not worry for me! It is peaceful here back home. Mother’s absence makes it easier for me to write to Seungcheol; and if circumstances allow, he may come visit me soon (of course Mother must never hear of this). Seungcheol sends his best regards for your first season and asks me to warn you to be wary of rakes- but I am sure Jeonghan will keep you safe from them. Once you take your pick of London’s finest, we may have a joint wedding! 

I am sure that offers for your hand will begin rolling in soon. Mother and Jeonghan shall be quite overwhelmed. Do not forget to write to me often!

Your loving sister. 

You folded the letter and tucked it safely away in your drawer. You knew that your elder sister wanted nothing but the best for you. It had been years since she had fallen in love with Choi Seungcheol- a widower and father to a young boy. But their match was unseemly and your sister had kept the courtship hidden for many years out of fear that it would tarnish your future prospects. Even now, the couple waited patiently to be married until you had secured your own matrimonial bliss. 

You were not ignorant of their sacrifice. 

Both your sister and Seungcheol were very dear to you, and although neither of them would ever say it aloud, you were the reason they could not live together as husband and wife. You considered it your responsibility to make the most of your time in London. You would secure a husband before the season ended. 

Surely it could not be so difficult? 

Your mother had insisted on putting you in the most restrictive of dresses (‘to better show your figure, my dear!’) so you felt breathless and anxious throughout the carriage ride to the Graham manor. You were on your way to the first social event of the season- the Duchess of Graham’s spectacular opening ball, where you would experience London society at its grandest for the first time. 

“Sister, are you all right?” Jeonghan asked you worriedly, as he helped you down from the carriage. 

You swallowed and nodded. “Y-yes, of course.” 

“You look rather unwell.” 

You felt unwell. The enormous Graham manor loomed before you in all its grandeur, and multiple carriages were parked on the road with various well-dressed ladies and gentlemen descending. Many paused to glance at you curiously on their way to the manor, and you felt exposed and anxious. 

It was dawning upon you how enormous this all was. Most of the people at the ball would have heard of your presentation in court. They would be watching you, judging you, talking about you. Even the smallest mistake could mean the end of your season. 

You suddenly could not breathe. 

"Come, sister," Mrs. Yoon (your sister-in-law) said. She had noticed your anxiety and took your arm in hers in a friendly manner. "Your presentation at court has caused quite the stir. There are many gentlemen eager to share a dance with you this evening, so you shall not be left wanting for dance partners.” 

“It’s only… this is my first ball…” you choked out nervously. 

“Not to worry! I was terribly nervous during my debut season as well, but you will begin to enjoy it soon!” 

You had no option but to take her word for it. There was a sea of fashionably dressed people gathered in the foyer of the manor. More than you had ever seen at once in your life, having spent most of your youth at your family’s remote countryside estate. Numerous eyes were on you. You could already feel your skin heating up underneath your heavy gown, and sweat beading on your forehead. 

“Well! If it isn’t Mr. and Mrs. Yoon Jeonghan!” 

Your brother and sister-in-law were interrupted by greetings from a pair of gentlemen. You did not recognize either of them- so you had no choice but to stop and force a smile as your brother and sister-in-law greeted them warmly. 

“I am surprised to see the Lees have arrived in London early this season,” Jeonghan said to them with a smile. 

“We could scarcely continue to hide in the shadows after our sister married a Viscount. Her marriage has given the rest of us renewed hope for our own prospects,” the taller of the two laughed jovially. He was very handsome- with a bright smile and kind eyes. Your stomach clenched in anxiety once more as he turned and his eyes fell on you. “Oh! Is this the much-anticipated debutante Miss Yoon?” 

You forced a curtsey. 

Jeonghan nodded. “Yes- this is my youngest sister Miss Yoon. She was presented in court only last week. Sister, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Lee Jihoon and Mr. Lee Seokmin. They are the brothers of Viscountess Hong, whom you may have met earlier this week.” 

You had a vague recollection of meeting the Viscountess at a ladies’ tea a few days ago. But the memory was pushed to the back of your mind when you discovered a large hand extended towards you. It belonged to Mr. Lee Seokmin- the owner of the bright smile and kind eyes. 

“We have heard so much about you, Miss Yoon. May I ask you to join me for the first dance of the evening?” Seokmin asked. 

It was as though you had forgotten how to speak. Mr. Lee Seokmin waited patiently for you to respond but despite your thoughts whirling at a hundred miles an hour, you simply could not force your lips to make any noise. There was a brief silence before your sister-in-law spoke on your behalf. 

“I am sure Miss Yoon would love to join you for a dance, Mr. Lee,” she promised. “You must simply allow us to visit the refreshment tables first. A glass of water is much needed in this warm weather.” 

Seokmin nodded in understanding. “Of course! You must wait here and we will find someone to bring you some water immediately.” 

You felt your tense shoulders relax slightly when the gentlemen disappeared into the crowd of people, and you were left alone with your sister-in-law. She turned to you with concern. 

“My dear, are you all right?” 

“I am fine,” you reassured her breathlessly. “I-I do not know what happened, my mind simply seemed to freeze and I could not think of what to say to him. He was so handsome and gentlemanly and I-I…” 

Mrs. Yoon grasped your hand and smiled. 

"You seem so nervous! You must not worry. Mr. Lee Seokmin is a very nice young gentleman- I have danced with him before myself -and I think it is an excellent idea for you to start your ball by dancing with him."

Her words felt distant. They did nothing to ease your anxiety. There were still too many eyes on you and your chest still felt tight. Your mind would not stop considering all the different scenarios in which this monumentally important evening could go terribly, terribly wrong. 

You were grateful for the silk gloves that concealed how sweaty your palms had become. 

Seokmin returned a few moments later with a glass of water for you. You accepted it with a trembling smile, and forced yourself to drink a little as your sister-in-law engaged Seokmin in polite conversation about his family.

"Ah- I believe the dancing is beginning!" Seokmin announced suddenly. The musicians had taken their places, and he held out his hand to you. "Shall we?"

You took his hand and glanced at your sister-in-law, who gave you an encouraging smile. Your feet felt numb as you followed your dance partner to the centre of the room. The ballroom was enormous. You could see other young ladies far more graceful, confident, and beautiful than you standing up to dance as well. Miss Hong, Miss Ella Williams, and even the Duchess herself stood with their dance partners. 

How could you compete? How could you stand up in a dance beside these accomplished women? Yes, your mother had paid for a tutor to teach you how to dance but she had said nothing, nothing about how positively nerve-wracking it would be to stand up in a room full of people with their eyes on you while other ladies smiled and glided effortlessly along! 

"Are you all right, Miss Yoon?" Seokmin asked you kindly as you took your place among the dancers. "You seem rather flustered."

Your throat still felt tight. "I-I am fine…"

He nodded and smiled. The music began, and Seokmin slowly led you into the dance and initiated a light conversation.

"You bear a striking resemblance to your elder sister. I knew her rather well. I and some of the other gentleman here who were privy to her… courtship with Mr. Choi often danced with her to ward off other suitors."

Mr. Lee Seokmin was not at fault. He had only done what any gentleman meeting with a new lady would do. He had found a topic of shared interest and attempted to initiate a conversation. 

He could not have known that he had said the worst possible thing to ease your nerves. 

You thought of your sister- your poor, darling sister who was depending on you to have a successful season and snatch up an eligible husband as soon as possible; your sister who had suffered through so many balls dancing with men she did not love solely for your benefit. She would be sitting at home and waiting to hear news of how you had charmed all of London's young men. 

The thought of disappointing her made you sick. 

"Miss Yoon?" Seokmin asked when you did not respond. He laughed uncomfortably. "I apologise, I did not mean to offend- perhaps this was an inappropriate setting to mention your sister or Mr. Choi…"

Your eyes widened. 

"No!" you cried. "No, I…"

*Yes?"

"I love my sister very much!" you blurted out loudly. 

Seokmin blinked, surprised at your sudden declaration. "Ah; yes, I imagine so. She spoke of you often. I understand you are very close?"

You nodded. It was your turn to speak but you could not think of anything to say to him. Your mind raced in a panic as you tried to think of something to reply with while keeping pace with the dance. You stumbled; Seokmin was surprised but managed to keep his grip on your gloved hand and ensured you did not fall. 

You were mortified. 

"I-I am so terribly sorry," you stammered. 

Seokmin chuckled. "That is perfectly all right, Miss Yoon, it happens to the best of us. Are you all right? Did you wish to sit down?"

Your ankle suddenly throbbed painfully. The stumble had thrust it into the wrong position and the sheer pain brought tears to your eyes. You blinked them back as you shook your head. 

"No, no," you said hurriedly. To sit down in the middle of your very first dance would surely attract far too much attention. You could not afford that kind of infamy. A young lady's first ball set the tone for the rest of the season, your sister-in-law had said so many times before, and you could not allow it to end like this. 

Seokmin frowned. "Miss Yoon, you really do not seem-"

"I am fine," you insisted breathlessly. You desperately tried to focus on anything but the pain in your ankle. Swallowing back your tears you looked up at Seokmin. "D-do you have any siblings of your own, Mr. Lee?"

He tilted his head in mild confusion. "Well- yes. You met my brother Jihoon earlier, and the Viscountess Hong is my sister. I also have three younger siblings who are not out in society."

Oh no. You realised your stupidity too late. Of course Seokmin had siblings, Jeonghan had told you about them mere minutes earlier! How could you ask the Viscountess' brother if he had siblings? What a fool you must have looked to ask a question that you should have known the answer to! 

"I-I apologise, I should have known-"

"Not at all. It is your first season, Miss Yoon, it is perfectly understandable that you may have been confused."

You flushed in embarrassment. You were ruined. Seokmin would tell all the other gentlemen of the ton that the younger Miss Yoon was a bumbling idiot; that she had no idea how to dance, or hold a conversation, and that she was rude enough to ask him about his siblings when she should have known them by name….

You could not look at Seokmin. The awkwardness and concern on his face was only adding to your growing dread. The pain in your ankle was becoming more and more difficult to conceal, and you could not keep your thoughts in order. Tears were springing to your eyes again. 

The dance finally came to an end. The silence that followed the last few notes of the music brought with it an immense relief, and you did not even wait to thank Mr. Lee Seokmin for the dance before you hobbled away from him. You needed to get away from the noise and the crowd and the staring eyes and judgemental faces, you needed a moment to simply breathe. 

The Duchess of Graham's manor was enormous and it was not very difficult to slip out of the ballroom relatively unnoticed. Your ankle was in incredible pain and you could not go far. You found the first door and burst out onto a deserted balcony.

The cool night breeze allowed you to take a refreshing gasp of air. The combination of the pain in your ankle and your crippling anxiety led you to simply close your eyes and lean against the barristers. You had not been able to manage one dance without panicking! How would you make it through the rest of this evening? 

Perhaps you could hide here until the dancing ended? 

It was the only option you had left. You could not-would not- go back into that crowded ballroom full of watching eyes and fashionable young men and women that were so confident and graceful and intimidating. The mere thought filled you with a deep and intense dread. Your ankle throbbed, and you slumped down with your back against the barristers and cradled it as you fought back more tears. 

You did not know how long you sat there on the balcony. The distant music from the ballroom must have stopped and restarted a few times before you suddenly heard the door to the balcony open once more. 

You froze. A tall, startlingly handsome gentleman entered the balcony with a cigar held loosely between his lips. He did not notice you immediately; he was too busy trying to light the cigar despite the gentle breeze blowing. He grumbled to himself a few times before finally managing to light it. The man took a long, satisfying drag and the balcony was filled with the smell of tobacco smoke. 

There was a sudden, sharp gust of wind that blew the smoke in your direction along with a wave of pollen from the lush, blooming garden below.

You sneezed. 

The man jumped in surprise and turned to you with wide eyes. "For heaven's sake- what are you doing down there?" he demanded. 

You were mortified. You could not speak. He squinted at you in the dim light streaming through the manors windows. 

"Are you injured?" he asked, noticing how you were clutching your ankle. He frowned and peered at you more closely. "You look very familiar… surely, you're not…ah! Are you the younger Miss Yoon? I know your sister!"

It was too much. The mention of your sister tipped you over the edge that you had been teetering on all evening. 

You burst into tears. 

The young gentleman looked horrified. He stood there for a moment with his mouth gaping open before he pulled out a handkerchief and tried to give it to you. You were too mortified to take it. You simply buried your head in your hands and sobbed your eyes out. 

You heard the gentleman leave- there was the sound of the balcony door closing, and then it opened again after less than a minute and multiple footsteps were audible. 

"Oh! Here she is- my dear, we have been looking for you everywhere!" your sister-in-law's arms came to wrap around you and you allowed yourself to relax in her warm embrace. Your brother was not far behind her. 

"What did you do, Mingyu?" Jeonghan demanded with a frown.

Mr. Kim Mingyu- the gentleman who was rapidly putting out his cigar against the balcony railing, paused and looked both bewildered and affronted.

"What did I do?" he cried. "I will not pretend as though I have never made a young lady cry, but really, Jeonghan, I barely said a word to her before she burst into tears!" 

"Nobody saw you?" Jeonghan insisted. 

"Of course not. Everyone was far too busy chatting about Miss Hong and that unfortunate business up in the library-"

"All right, all right. Thank you for calling us."

Your brother came over to help you up. Jeonghan sighed when he noticed your ankle. "Can you walk?" 

You shook your head miserably.

"All right. Here- lean on my shoulder. Your mother is going to be furious…"

—----------------------------------------------------

Your mother was furious. 

"I should never have trusted you to chaperone her!" she yelled at your sister-in-law. "How can you tell me that she danced only once- and to have allowed her to injure herself! How will she dance at the upcoming balls?"

Your sister-in-law sighed. 

"Madam, I will confess that perhaps I could have kept a closer eye on her, but really, the injury was an accident. I am not sure how you expect me to have prevented it from happening," she retorted irritably.

Your mother was incensed. "I shall certainly expect nothing more from you! I shall escort my daughter to all the balls for the rest of the season myself!"

Your eyes widened. 

"Mother, no…"

"Hush," your mother snapped. "I don't want to hear another word from you. Injuring your ankle at the very beginning of the season! As though you had never been taught to dance! I want nothing from you, except to heal that ankle as soon as possible!"

You bit your lip. "Yes, mother…"

"I am off to Mrs. Patty's to see what the rest of the ton thinks. We must count our blessings that the Viscount's sister made an absolute spectacle of herself the same night, so word of your poor debut was not the most gossip-worthy event of the evening."

You bit your lip. It seemed unkind to take relief in another young lady's misfortunes but those were the cards you had been dealt. Your mother stormed out of the parlour and your sister-in-law came closer to you. 

"Are you all right?" she asked gently. "How is your ankle?"

It was swollen. The doctor had been by and had advised you to rest for a few days and that you should be in a position to walk normally in a week's time. 

"Better," you lied.

"You look quite miserable, my dear."

"I-I dread to think of how I shall manage the next ball. Mr. Lee was so gentle and kind, but I still panicked and could not bring myself to converse normally with him. I am sure he will tell the entire ton that I am a bumbling fool!"

"I am sure he will not," Mrs. Yoon said firmly. "He is not so unkind."

"And if the next man is not as kind as him? What if I make a bigger fool of myself in front of someone far more important? How shall I ever find a husband if I cannot even dance or converse with gentlemen? Were you this nervous when you debuted?" you cried.

She sighed. "I will confess I was not. We each have skills which come more naturally to us than others. But you need not worry. That does not mean that you will never be able to charm a gentleman. It only means that you need more practice in the arts of… conversation and flirtation than others."

You blinked at her. "Will you practice with me?"

"I would love to- but it will not help. You are too comfortable with me. You need to practice under more realistic conditions with a real gentleman. But a gentleman with whom the stakes are low, and who will not mind if you make a few mistakes."

A servant entered the parlour and curtsied. "Mrs. Yoon- a Mr. Kim Mingyu has arrived to see you."

"Yes- please show him in," your sister-in-law replied before smiling at you. "Your practice gentleman is here, it seems."

You stared at her in disbelief. 

"What?"

Mr. Kim entered the room. You had not been able to see him clearly in the darkness and emotional haze of the Duchess' ball the previous night, but he appeared in front of you now, in all his present glory. 

Kim Mingyu was tall and handsome, with a charming smile and twinkling eyes that radiated a mixture of playfulness and confidence. He wore a fashionable riding coat. His dark hair was soft and brushed his forehead lightly. 

You were stunned into silence. 

"Excellent," your sister-in-law said when she noticed your horrified expression. "That look is exactly what we are hoping to ease you out of, with enough practice. Mr. Kim; come join us!"

Mingyu gracefully took a seat across from you and flashed his perfect smile.

"Miss Yoon," he greeted you. "I must apologise for my behaviour the previous night. I really did not see you on the balcony."

You opened your mouth to respond but no words came out. Clenching your fists, you forced yourself to respond calmly. "No-I mean…it was not… you did nothing wrong… I was hiding…"

Mr. Kim bit back his smile. 

"Ah," he said calmly, with a tone of understanding. "I see the problem."

Your sister-in-law turned to him. "As you can see, Miss Yoon is having some trouble engaging in conversation. I thought, as one of the more experienced bachelors of the ton in matters of flirtation and courtship, you might be persuaded to take her under your wing."

Mingyu grinned. "I would be delighted."

You stared at them. "But-but…"

"Mr. Kim is a notorious rake," your sister-in-law told you matter-of-factly. You stared at the gentleman sitting across from you in shock, expecting him to be offended by her name-calling, but Mingyu only nodded solemnly. 

You had to object. "Sister, surely he is not-"

"No, Mrs. Yoon is perfectly right," Mingyu interrupted you. "I have gathered quite the reputation for myself and it is wholly deserved."

"O-oh."

"Mr. Kim has generously offered his services," your sister-in-law continued. "He is not only prepared to teach you how to flirt and converse with gentlemen at social events, he is also prepared to enter into a public courtship with you until you are ready to venture out on your own."

"A courtship?" you demanded. 

"It is, of course, a false one," Mingyu explained to you calmly. "It may take some time until you are fully ready and confident enough to converse with your real suitors. Until then, I would be happy to play the part of a jealous, lovesick suitor who intends to keep you all to himself. I shall interfere and sweep you away from any gentlemen you are not ready to speak to. I can prevent further uncomfortable situations and act as a buffer. This way, you will not appear rude, and the blame for any unpleasant situations will fall upon me."

"I see…."

Your sister-law nodded. "Once you are ready, you may publicly end your courtship with Mr. Kim and proceed to pursue the man of your choosing. Nobody will blame you- he is a known rake, after all, and you would not be the first young lady to have her heart broken by him."

"Well," Mingyu chimed in with a gracious smile. "I will not presume that Miss Yoon wishes to have her heart broken by me. If it suits you better, I will be delighted to pretend that you were the one who broke my heart. We may orchestrate the ending of our courtship in a manner of your choosing."

You swallowed. "But my mother-"

Your sister-in-law grinned. "Mr. Kim is an only son and is the sole owner of a very wealthy estate not far from where the Chois live. Your mother will not object to him courting you. Of course, she need not know the truth."

It was an elaborate and dangerous scheme. You were not sure if it would succeed but you could see the genuineness in your sister-in-law's eyes. She really wanted to help you, and after the disaster at the Duchess of Graham's ball, you would be a fool if you did not admit that you needed all the help you could obtain. 

You would have to trust her. 

"Miss Yoon?" Mr. Kim asked with a charming smile. "Do I have your permission to court you?"

You took a deep breath and nodded. 

"Yes, Mr. Kim. You do."

—-----------------------------------------------------

[mister-eames]

Secret Saito 2024

Happy Secret Saito to you all, I hope you're having a great holiday season x

This is my @secretsaito gift for @motionalocean, whose prompt was lurid. I hope you enjoy this darling <3 thank you for the prompt!

Prompt: lurid Pairing: Arthur/Eames Word Count: 5.4k Warnings: Alcohol, post-break-up, make-up, miscommunication, some angst but with a happy ending, mild drunkenness and anxiety, blink-and-you'll-miss characters and references from dated 90's movies, trust me they live happily ever after.

----

Eames tugs the lapels of his jacket and squares his shoulders, projecting an air of confidence that he isn't quite sure he really feels. Knows he doesn't, in honesty, otherwise he wouldn't be trying it on.

But it doesn’t matter, really; he can fake anything for long enough to fool who counts. Eames once convinced the Prime Minister of Australia that he was raised by a red kangaroo in the red soils of the outback after being abandoned by his mother. He once convinced a travelling group of tourists that he was the next in line for the throne. No doubt about it, if he's assured of anything, it's that Eames can convince a bunch of people he doesn't even know that he is a confident, wealthy, self-made man.

Two out of three isn't bad.

He pushes the door to the ballroom open and feels his mouth stretch into the genial smile of a man with his shit together.

---

The noise around Arthur is near deafening. A live band plays a rotation of top forty hits from the last several decades and the countless surrounding conversations of too-loud family make for an incomprehensible cacophony. He’s only been here for an hour but his head is already pounding like a pick into an ice-shelf.

The venue is noisy. The decorations are showy, a riot on the senses. It's all very gauche. Very Cohen family. Very Aunt Edith, who he must lovingly admit this is very fitting.

By means of having attended here alone Arthur has found himself in the orbit of some group of people he only vaguely recognises, three drinks in already, trying to politely refrain from checking his watch for the right time to excuse himself. Although he’s long tuned out, he’s still nodding at all the right places, interjecting with the odd "Oh, really?"

Hand to god he's not normally such a drinker in social settings, especially not the bottom-shelf spirits and wine that this bar is serving, but—well. He tips his drink back, emptying the flute in a single gulp. It doesn't bear thinking about.

"And what do you do for work?" a young woman holding a full flute of champagne asks Arthur.

"I'm a freelance consultant."

"Nice," she says, eyeing him up and down with interest. "In what industry?"

The reply rolls practiced off his tongue. "Quantum technology."

Arthur doesn't even know who he's talking to anymore. His third cousin's second born partner, maybe. Could be. Aside from his immediate family Arthur couldn't name most of the people here. It’s sloppy of him, perhaps. At least from a security standpoint, maybe. But Arthur isn’t on the job anymore, and he’s grown weary of watching all the exits and having eyes in the back of his head for events like family birthdays all the damn time. His nerves are so burned out they're beyond resurrection.

"Who's that?" someone asks.

He looks to the entrance. His stomach drops to his feet.

"What the hell is he doing here," Arthur mutters under his breath, feeling his face heat up. Someone grabs his arm and shakes it.

"Eames is here," his Uncle Sandy says excitedly. "I thought you said he wasn't coming!"

"He said he couldn't make it," Arthur says through his teeth. He said he wasn't going to be here. 

He watches as Eames takes an offered glass of an amber drink, smiling widely as he is greeted by relatives and their partners, people who Arthur, still, can hardly name. He looks hale and healthy and whole, shoulders relaxed, making easy conversation like it's his own party.

By the time he's noticed, Eames has already looked up and met his gaze.

Eames raises a toast to him.

He barely refrains from raising his middle finger in return.

Arthur is going to kill him, that little fucking liar. Arthur is going to kill him in front of everyone here. There will be so many witnesses and Arthur will go to jail but it will be so worth it. That smarmy, little prick, look at him. Schmoozing and disrupting Arthur’s entire night like the little liar he is.

He tosses back his own drink, finding it somehow already empty.

Easy fix, Arthur thinks, unlike everything else. He abandons whoever is speaking to him to march over to the bar and orders a martini.

---

It takes all of five minutes for Eames to lazily wander over and side up next to Arthur, gesturing to the bartender for a second drink. He is wearing a suit Arthur has never seen him in; something so immaculately tailored and well-made that it can't be new.

"You said you weren't coming."

"Actually what I said was that I'd rather masturbate into a cheese grater than show up, but as you would know," Eames affects an air of disinterest, "changes of heart are just so common." 

“You really should have done yourself a favor and gone with the first idea.”

“Yes, well. After very little deliberation I came to the realisation that I have as much right to be here as you do."

"It's my family."

"Funny," says Eames humourlessly. "I thought I was family too."

Arthur clenches jaw, retort dying in the back of his throat. Eames isn't wrong. Eames is practically part of the furniture at his family functions, and has been for over ten years. Up until---

"Besides," says Eames. "Aunty Edith likes me best. And I have her gift."

"Whatever," Arthur pulls the lapels of his jacket, squaring his shoulders. "Just stay out of my way."

"I intend to," Eames replies.

"You better."

"I will."

"Good."

"Great."

Arthur turns his body away, his skin crawling like a horde of ants were underneath it. "You can go back to your corner of the room now."

"Ta ta," Eames says, easily plucking the olive from Arthur's martini glass. "Pleasure seeing you, Arthur.  Parting is such sweet sorrow, etcetera."

"Go find yourself that cheese grater." 

Eames leaves with a satisfied glint in his eyes. Arthur sips his oliveless martini, uncaring. He hates olives, anyway.

---

“Why aren’t you here with Arthur?”

A fabulous question, really, considering no one here is a blood relative of his, or even a friend, besides the birthday girl.

"Well," Eames tells Arthur's drunk cousin, Barry, perhaps a little drunk himself. He lowers his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "But we had a falling out recently, see. We're not together anymore."

"Really?"

Eames nods. "Over post-it's, if you'd believe."

The crowd of four he's speaking with pause in unison, aghast, as they no longer pretend they're not eavesdropping. 

"Post-it's?" Someone repeats, incredulous. 

Emerging from the bathrooms, draped in a fabulous red feather boa is the birthday woman of the hour. Arthur’s Great Aunt Edith. She is resplendent amongst pomp and circumstance, a withering cigarette in one hand, wine in the other. She spots Eames and waves him over.

"Long story," Eames says, downing his drink. "Anyway, nice seeing you." He waves back to Edith and heads over.

"Eames, my dear," Edith embraces him. "So good to see you."

"And you, my lovely lady," he kisses her flushed cheeks, feeling a knot in his upper back come loose. "I hear it's your eightieth birthday," he pulls back, assessing her. "You don't look a day over fifty."

"Oh, stop," she swats him away. "Where's Arthur? I've hardly seen him all night."

"Ah...I'm sure he's about," Eames smiles mildly, immediately feeling the knot coming back. "You know how he is. Can't sit still, that one. Anyway, tell me what you've been up to."

As he eagerly anticipated, she puts on a show, eyes widening with all of her witnessed tales: The headliner: Distress, despair, drama. She clutches his arm, steering him away from the crowd.

"Oh, Eamsie, darling, where do I even begin."

---

It's been two whole hours. Arthur hasn’t stuck around a family function this long since his youngest cousin’s Bar Mitzvah in ‘02.

"I haven't seen you since you were this high," his aunt Michele exclaims, gesturing to her bra-line. "Still, you barely look a day over twenty, you Cohens and your genes. I'm so jealous. Who are you wearing, Armani?" 

"Tom Ford," he blinks. 

"And what are you doing here all by your lonesome, hmm? Where's your beau?"

"My ex, you mean" he says, a little more drunkenly than he intends to, wiping his sweaty palm down his tie. He turns around on his stool and picks Eames out by the far end of the room and points to him. Luckily, Eames doesn't notice, or doesn't acknowledge this.

"No. When did you break up?" She looks genuinely sad.

"Like, yesterday."

"Oh my god."

"Yep."

"You two were, like, so cute together. What happened?"

"Post-it's,” Arthur mutters murderously. “Post-it's happened." 

"Huh?"

"Pretty ballsy of Eames to show up here at a family function like that if you’re not together," Barry says, cutting in. “Y’know. Considering.”

"...He is family," Arthur says quietly, eyes sliding to the small crowd Eames has amassed, each lured and falling to his natural charm. He fits right in, he always has. Like a missing piece of a prevailingly incomplete puzzle; he's as much a branch of the family tree as Arthur is. "...Even if he and I are not... anyway. Leave him be."

He lets that hang in the air and slides off his stool, and heads to the bathroom. Eames seems to have wandered off elsewhere, Arthur notes. Not that he was looking or anything.

---

Eames has just received a dollop of fancy-smelling soap in the palm of his left-hand when the bathroom door swings open. He's lathering it over his fingers when he looks up at the mirror and meets Arthurs gaze.

A thunderous look overtakes Arthur's features as he stalks to the urinals at the far wall, looking pale and unsteady despite his visible agitation.

Well, whatever. Ignoring him, Eames waves his hand uselessly in front of the sensor tap, failing to elicit a stream of water, Eames can't help himself, Arthur is fucking swaying on the spot. "Had a bit much, have you?"

The reply is instant.

"Fuck off."

He fucking hates these things. By the time Arthur has finished taking the world's longest piss Eames is still wriggling his soapy fingers towards the sensor without success. 

It prompts a huff and a bitchy "Jesus christ," before Arthur is leaning over and waving his hand under the stupid handlebar structure that Eames thought was decorative, eliciting a stream of cold water.

"Stupid fucking things," Eames mutters, dipping his hands under the spray.

There's an awkward moment where they finish washing their hands at the same moment and reach for the same paper towel dispenser.

"New suit?" Arthur gruffs, wiping his hands roughly.

"It is actually," Eames mutters, heart drooping like a forsaken house plant. He'd bought it six months ago, intended for their anniversary next month. He'd been hoping to surprise Arthur with it. 

In a way, he supposes he has. Just not the way he'd envisioned.

He checks the state of his hair in the reflection. "Not up to your high standards, Arthur?"

In the mirror Arthur rolls his eyes as he bunches up his paper towel. "I just didn't take you for a bow-tie man, is all."

Arthurs hair is down; long and curly, just the way Eames likes it. Used to like it. Compliments and insults gather and tangle amongst themselves on the tip of his tongue. He wants to say something between fuck you and you look unfairly lovely in that suit. He wants to say he's sorry, that he wishes more than anything he could reach his hands into time and reverse the clock, to go back and not say the things he did.

"You always did profess to know me better than you do," is what he says instead.

Ten years down the fucking drain. He turns then and, much like he did not so long ago, leaves. 

---

Arthur thinks his suit might be too tight.

Or maybe his tie is too close to his throat. Maybe someone has sucked all of the air out of the room, there's too many people. It's hot in here, too hot. In any case, Arthur is finding it harder to breathe than he did twenty minutes ago.

Trembling fingers worry with the knot of his tie for the nth time as he attempts to draw in a deep, heaving breath but finds his lungs refusing to expand to capacity. And it's as if someone has turned his hearing up to a hundred; the ballroom both quiet and deafening at once, he's sure everyone here can hear his galloping heartbeat, they all seem to be looking at him. Maybe he's making all the noise. He can't remember.

Maybe he has had too much to drink. 

Arthur has always been a bit of an outlier in his family. Never like his cousins. Too trapped in his own head. And now he's turned up to this party and everyone knows he's been unable to save his marriage, that it's back to baseline at his age when all of his cousins are having kids. Arthur is at one of these things alone again even with Eames swanning about, avoiding each other like they are strangers.

Intimacy has a fatal backlash, and this is it.

He has to get out of here.

Pasting on a smile, he finds Edith by the bar. She's graciously shared half of her feather boa with Aunt Michele as they speak.

"I'm heading out," he interrupts them, embracing Edith. "Happy Birthday, again. Thank you for inviting me."

"Oh, Arthur dearest," she says, her hands finding his shoulders, her rouged lips sloping into a frown. "So soon?"

"I have an early morning," he lies. "A work thing."

She shares a look with Michele. "Could you please do one thing for me before you leave?"

"Sure."

"I'm feeling a bit of a chill. Would you be able to retrieve my coat from the cloak room?"

It's the least he could do dipping out early on her special day. "Of course."

"Number sixteen,” she passes him a paper ticket. “Lime leopard print, you can't miss it."

The cloak room, if he recalls correctly, was in the grand hall, out of the ballroom, towards the entrance.

So close, but so far, he thinks wryly, heading in.

---

It's quite stuffy in here, generously sized for a glorified closet, he has less room than he'd like, but it's hot work, rummaging around the large coats and jackets.

It's as he's spotted the lime leopard print monstrosity, way at the back, when he hears a tell-tale snick.

He drops the item and lunges for the door handle. It doesn't open. 

“No, no, no…” He jigs the handle, twisting it this way and that, bile rising up his throat. It's locked. He can't open it. Either this is a huge mistake or some fucker has just locked him in here. "Is anyone there?"

He calls out again, louder. No one answers him.

Then he kicks the door.

It doesn't budge. He pulls his phone out with nervous, shaking hands, desperate enough to call Eames to get him the fuck out of here. Not even Eames is petty enough to leave him in the lurch in a situation like this. He tries, but it goes to voicemail for each time Arthur tries.

No service. Of fucking course. Why would anything go right for him.

His eyes slip shut briefly and suddenly he is in an elevator; a tiny, cramped elevator that is going to descend and crash at any moment. A wave of vertigo washes over him so suddenly that his knees buckle, taking him to the floor.

The tie is loosened, and wrested from his person and thrown to the ground.

"Fuck," he says to himself. He buries his head in his hands and laughs, eyes burning, suddenly very, very sober.

---

If asked, Eames would generously say he is mostly a fan of Arthur's family. His mom, bless her memory, was a darling. Sandy, Michele, Edith, all gold star members of the Cohen clan, whether outsourced or made in-house. But some of them, however, are insufferable.

A dominant Cohen trait, it would seem.

He's been stuck speaking to some old fart who is drunkenly admitting to having a mistress while some other, older fart next to him nods and openly shares stories of sneaking gropes of the younger women who work in his office. 

"Well, that's depressing," he mutters, downing the rest of his champagne, skin feeling greasy simply by proximity. "Nice talk, chaps."

He leaves that circle of degeneracy to find someone more up to his speed. But as he turns, and turns, and turns, there doesn't seem to be anyone to fit that brief. He can't even see Arthur. Perhaps he left already. Without saying goodbye, or even a middle finger, that scoundrel. Not that Eames cares. 

He smooths a hand down the front of his shirt and considers that it is perhaps time to leave.

The birthday girl finds him before he finds her.

"Oh, Eamesie," she kisses his cheeks again. "You heading out, are you?"

"I am," he takes her hands in his, pressing a kiss to the back of each one. "Early morning, see."

"Worst news of the night! You'll come visit me soon, won't you?"

"Of course. We have to do happy hour."

"Of course! Can you do one thing for me before you leave?"

He smiles, fond, a happiness to indulge her blooming brightly in the cracks inside of him. "Of course."

Her shoulders shake with a theatrical shiver. "I'm feeling a bit of a chill... would you be able to retrieve my coat from the cloak room? Number sixteen."

---

Arthur estimates that he's been sat on the floor, staring into nothingness, for at least twenty minutes when the door to the cloak room opens.

He's instantly on his feet, a thank god on his lips, when he sees that it's Eames who's come to his rescue.

Eames is staring at him, dumbly. "What are you doing in here?" he asks, the yellow light of the bulb above his head giving him a halo. “Did you pass out or something?”

“What?” Arthur pauses. "What are you doing here? Then it occurs to him exactly what Eames is doing in here. The blood rushes out of his upper body. Then he says, "Fuck."

Snick.

“Did—?”

Hysteria wells up where hope has vacated as he watches Eames whirl around and re-enact the same thing that Arthur had done earlier in trying to get the door open.

"It's locked," Arthur informs him.

"It's locked," Eames exclaims as if he hasn't heard him, roughly shaking the door handle. "Arthur, it's fucking locked. We're locked in." He pounds on the door and calls out, but no one comes, even when Eames resorts to bellowing for help.

Arthur sighs, head pounding.

Eames whirls around, anger writ over his face. "Are you going to fucking help or what, Arthur?" He takes his phone out of pocket, "Useless. I'll just fucking---" he taps the screen roughly. "No service? How is there no fucking service?"

"I've already tried that."

Eames rummages through the racks of coats, trying to look for something. "Surely there is something to jimmy that fucking door open." He pats himself down in a panic. "I don't have my fucking kit with me. The one day I don't have my goddamn kit."

Arthur knows. He left his lockpicking kit at their house, along with all of his other possessions.

"Did Edith ask you to get her coat?"

Pausing his assault on the door Eames sends a suspicious, caged look. "How did you know? Did you fucking plan this?"

"What the fuck?" Arthur blinks, taken aback. "Why would I plan this? Do you think I want to be stuck here with you?"

"I don't know, do you?"

"I don't want to be anywhere fucking near you," he snaps. Unbelievable. “This is the last place I want to be in." He punctuates this by pressing himself to the furthest wall, a whole four feet away from Eames. "Edith asked me the same thing," he swears. "What did you tell her?"

"I didn't fucking tell her anything, just that we split up."

"And what else?"

"I didn't tell her to lock me in a fucking closet with you if that's what you're asking," Eames snaps. "No doubt this is her idea of a joke."

More like her idea of a daytime soap. "I'm not laughing," Arthur mutters darkly.

"I suppose you wouldn't be," Eames says, mouth twisted in a facsimile of amusement. "Can't run away when someone's got you locked in."

Arthur strips his jacket off in angry motions, suddenly very warm, and drops it to the floor beside his tie. Beads of sweat roll down his back as the walls seem to close in with every verbal jab. 

"Rich coming from you. I'm not the one who ran away."

"I left after you left me." Eames adds.

"I didn't fucking leave you!" Arthur snaps, wishing he were anywhere else, that the floor would open and swallow him whole. He's so sick of talking about this. "God, you're so self-absorbed! You can't ever be wrong, can you?"

“Oh, are we doing this now?” Eames' arms cross over his chest. "What part am I wrong about—"

"—All of it—"

"—was it the note you left on the PASV that said 'I can't do this anymore'? Or was it the second that said 'I'm leaving?'".

"Leaving for a job for fucks' sake!" Arthur frustratedly wipes his hands down his face. "You weren't back from Berlin yet!"

"You'd been ignoring my calls for an entire week," Eames says. “If that’s not precisely what you meant, what was I supposed to think? That you’d announced your departure for milk and eggs down the shops?"

"You were supposed to ask me! Like, 'Hey, Arthur, what's this about?'"

"So you could break up with me to my face?"

Arthur shakes his head. "You always do this. You always cut the goddamn cord when you think someone is going to let the other end go first. I wasn't breaking up with you, asshole. You misunderstood."

"Yes, well," Eames huffs defensively, "it was only a matter of time, wasn't it? It was always going to end this way. It always does."

Arthur doesn't think so, but is too angry to bother refuting him. His fingers, slippery with sweat, struggle to unbutton his cuffs. He gets there and pushes his sleeves up messily, then works on the first few buttons of his shirt. He takes hold of the fabric and pulls it away from his chest, using it to fan himself.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm--" he wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "It's too hot. I can't breathe." The room is too small. The room is too fucking small, there isn’t enough air—the elevator is falling—

"...sit down." Eames voice is muffled. "...sit down, Arthur."

His legs abruptly collapse beneath him at the command, knees buckling like a puppet that had its strings cut. Curling in on himself Arthur buries his head in his shaking hands again so he doesn't have to see.

Several long, quiet moments pass before he hears Eames shuffle and sit in front of him, clothes shifting noisily before him.

"Do you remember when we broke up over stamps that one time?" Arthur says into his hands when it feels like he’s not going to fall anymore, when there is a little more oxygen in the room. 

“Yeah.”

"I thought that was the dumbest reason for anyone to break up and nothing could ever top it.” He huffs darkly, laughing a little. “I was wrong."

"To be fair, they were my Uncle Micks' stamps."

"Your Uncle Mick was an asshole."

"Yeah but his collection was worth a mint. Until you threw them out."

"I didn't realize what it was,” he says sadly. “I thought it was trash."

"You misunderstood."

He presses his fingernails into his hairline until it hurts. "Yeah, I guess I did."

---

Every second that it takes for Arthur’s breathing to even out Eames counts out. Each of those seconds he wishes the closet door would magically open and give them both what he can’t, a solution to everything wrong between them.

"You're never going to forgive me about following Dom, are you?" Arthur says after a long time. 

"It's not that I haven't forgiven..." Eames swallows, tracing a line over the curve of his thumbnail. "There was never... I've forgiven you. Long ago."

“Then why did you say—? Yesterday. Why did you...”

Maybe Arthur was right, that it was Eames looking for an out this entire time. Maybe he wants some benevolent force to open that door so Eames can flee for good, unable to stand this peeling back of his skin, the under surface exploration that has never become easier, even after all this time.

Finding the right words is like digging for gold in a bargain bin at a discount store. In all of the white noise he tries to find the words; but they come out clumsy; insufficient. "When you left that time. It was...it felt..." He feels stupid even saying it, "...it hurt so tremendously that I think it took out a part of me."

"Eames."

"And the only way I could cope with that was to shut off that part of myself that cares with the same ferocity. To just turn it all off. I think I never put myself back together quite right. And every time I start thinking you're going to leave again..."

"You do what you think you need to to protect yourself. "

He shrugs, profound shame heating his face. "I do it before I know I've done it. I can't feel left behind if I convince myself I don't love you anymore."

"And you don't?"

"I only convince myself long enough to get out the door," Eames admits for the first time out loud. "It's pride that he keeps me from walking back in. I don't know if I can fix it."

"I wasn't going to leave."

It’s been forty hours of the same argument. Eames is beyond tired of this. "Then what the fuck does 'I can't do this anymore' and 'I'm leaving' mean, Arthur?"

Out of the corner of his eye Arthur looks awful, more awful than he did when Eames walked in. Ten years older and barren of any human vitality; smaller. "I was leaving for another job. It was going to be my last because I'm quitting."

Eames blinks. "You are not."

"I'm done. No more dreaming, no more consulting. None of it."

"You wouldn't last five minutes without it."

"I knew that's what you would say," Arthur fiddles with his hands, not meeting his eyes. "But I am. I mean, aren't you tired of it?"

"I was tired of it five years ago, Arthur. Remember, before you pulled me back in for the Fischer job?"

"I wish I'd quit then. Right after Mal." He laughs, darkly. "I wasted so much time. I fucking regret it. We could have had more time; now look at us."

"I can't believe you wrote that on fucking post-its," Eames wipes a hand down his face. "Why didn't you write 'let's quit dreamshare', you stupid idiot."

"It was only a first draft. You were home earlier than I expected. You weren’t meant to find them."

A long silence passes between them, taking up all of the available space in the tiny cloak room.

"You're right," Eames nudges their knees together, heart breaking a little. "This is way more stupid than the stamps break-up. Or the time with the bagel."

"I hadn't eaten in three days," Arthur says, ire momentarily flaring like a stoked fire as Eames knew it would, bringing a bit of life back to him. "Fuck. I was so mad when you ate that. I was so hungry."

"It was a stale bagel, for what it's worth."

"...I'm sorry you found the notes like that. I didn't think-- I didn't think. I was just trying to plan what to say. I was scared it was going to be a deal breaker."

"I suppose it was, in a way."

"Yeah."

An uncomfortable silence passes between them. In the far distance the can hear echoes of the ballroom music, but no voices, or footsteps.

"Eames?"

"Mm?"

"I..." Arthur visibly appears to take a moment to measure his words. "When you said yesterday that I was a flake looking for the next out... I'm not a flake."

Regret slides down Eames throat in a hard, solid lump. "I shouldn't have said that. I know you're not."

"And I shouldn't have said that you weren't in this to begin with."

"I was, you know," he says.

"Yeah."

"But this up and down thing," Eames says, finally loosening his bow-tie, the old aches in his knees and the small of his back making themselves known. "I had it wrong, but I had it right. We can't keep doing this.” 

“No.”

An air of sadness and finality permeates the room so thickly that Eames can't take it. He isn't going to let post-its of all damn things be their end. So he does what he does best, and takes a gamble.

“...We'd need to do something different."

The dividends are paid out in Arthur blinking at him in surprise, the ghost of a hopeful smile tugging at his lips. 

"Yeah,” he agrees. “Like... not working in an industry we resent?"

"Or not getting mad over stamps."

"Or bagels."

"Or not seeing family you like often enough."

"Not explaining things clearly," Arthur concedes, inching closer. "I was wrong, Eames. I messed up, big time. I am an idiot."

"Will you write that on a post-it?"

"A hundred times over."

"I do love you, very much, for what it's worth." Eames tells him. "I can't unlove you. I've tried. It doesn't stick."

Eames did try. But in a rush of blinding colour Eames can see at once the worth of the immaterial; the cost of his own self-preservation, or the risk of further turbulence with Arthur. A lifetime of missing the shape of him, of waking up beside him. Of being known by him. No part of Eames has known or longed for another since Arthur; and he feels it still, at this moment, pressed thigh to thigh, alone together, two inches and two thousand miles apart. Eames would be okay without Arthur, but he's so much better with him.

"Me too." Fingers thread through his. Arthur’s palm is slick and his fingers faintly tremble with lingering adrenaline.

Despite all of it, this simple point of contact threads some part of Eames back together. 

"Fourth time has to be the charm, don't you think?"

"I'll do it as many times as needed," Arthur says, his other hand coming up to cup Eames cheek. 

A chaste kiss is pressed to his mouth.

"Which coat is the best to shag on, do you think?" he mumbles against Arthur's lips after a moment, dirtying up the kiss with a swipe of his tongue.

"There should be some genuine mink in here, I think," Arthur tugs on Eames' bow-tie. "It's a shame we're going to crumple this suit. It's gorgeous."

Eames doesn't think it's a shame at all. It was the purpose of him buying it in the first place, after all. It was always intended to end up in a rumpled, crinkled pile on the floor.

And it does.

---

One year later.

"Oh, don't you two look cute," is the first thing his Aunt Michele says at Edith's 81st birthday party.

"I'd prefer devastatingly handsome," says Eames, linking his arm with Arthurs.

Michele blinks. "Okay. Nice seeing you!" Then she's off, chasing another woman calling her name.

"I prefer dapper," says Arthur, looking at Eames, seemingly somewhat offended. He gestures to their suits. "This is not cute."

"Au contraire, my dear," Eames begins walking them forward, waving across the room to some of Arthur's cousins, "we are the cutest. I could pinch our cheeks."

Arthur fixes him a look that halts a hand wandering downwards that intends to do just so. Recovering, Eames only smiles placidly at him as they approach the bar, where Edith is already flirting with the bartender. This year she's in a studded leather jacket and a red sequinned dress with a dramatic, sultry slit up the side. It’s tacky. It’s as lurid as the rest of the venue. It’s perfect.

"Didn't think either of you would show up," Barry mutters into his drink, face scrunching up as if he'd just tasted something sour.

"Oh honestly, how many times must we apologise for that little incident," Eames waves him off, referring to the previous room when Barry was the one to find them in the cloak room, post-coitus, having thoroughly defiled the gaudiest of outerwear.

"You haven't even apologized once."

"Well, if we're honest, nothing about that incident was little," says Arthur.

"Right you are," says Eames.

"I'm leaving," says Barry.

"Oh, how I missed you two," Edith smiles brightly welcoming them into her embrace as Barry departs. She kisses both of their cheeks. “Tell me, darlings, what’s news?”

Arthur shares a look with Eames.

It hasn’t been a year without setbacks; to be expected, of course, when quitting dreamshare and recharting the trajectory of their lives. Not without quibbles and slammed doors, sneers and snarls and fucking spectacular make-up sex. But it’s been the best year of Eames’ life, so far, he would put good money on saying, full of making up things as they go and plain old making up and out, over and over. Growing up and older together, more stable than they’ve ever been before. 

Arthur squeezes his fingers.

Eames slips his other hand into his pocket, feeling for the folded up piece of paper he knows is in there. A post-it that simply reads I love you.

“We’re thinking of relocating nearby,” he announces. “A change of pace.”

Edith's gasp is genuine in its delight. “Oh, that is the best news of the night!”

Arthur’s voice is soft. “Yeah,” he catches Eames gaze, smiles fondly. “We’re pretty damn happy.”

They are.

[lukas-broken-bow]

to my mutuals and the people who care:

so uh

hi

for those of you that actually know my blog and speak to me, I’m really sorry that I randomly disappeared for quite a while. I’ve been having a lot of stuff recently (including bouts of sickness, family time, and a really noticeable uptick in my anxiety disorders), and couldn’t bear the brunt of maintaining much of an online presence besides that. thanks to people who have been worried about me (specifically @basilthesnakingthing, ever an amazing friend. you have my deepest apologies for worrying you, and I’m so glad your ear is better. merry belated christmas :D), I’m sorry for worrying you.

in the same vein, being online (specifically posting social media, on multiple platforms, not just tumblr) has become incredibly anxiety inducing for me and because of this, I feel like I need to take a bit of a break from maintaining an active online presence. I might, if I feel up to it, reply to a few posts and/or asks here and there, but otherwise, I’m going to try and stick to passive likes and reblogs until I start to become less anxious about coming onto any social media (this is a bit of an if/when situation, some stuff on other platforms in addition to this one have made me not really want to have a social media presence but I still love this website and want to stick around on it, so I’m putting in some effort to be able to come back if I ever want to). I promise this isn’t because of anyone or anything in particular, it’s simply because my mental health can’t handle both my irl life and online life and maintaining a large-ish online life is starting to feel like a bit of a burden on my psyche. I’m really sorry, and I hope everyone who interacts with my blog often can understand where I’m coming from.

to all my mutuals, I love you so much. I’ll see you in the reblogs <3

—Luka

[bloggingboutburgers]

hey! just have a quick question about getting into qprs... i have this person i've known for about 2-3 years now and i'd absolutely love to get into a qpr with them; i've tried to hint at it in the past but my autistic ass can't figure out how to say it and have them pick it up (they've never noticed any of my hints before) without explicitly asking "hey have you heard of this thing called a queer-platonic relationship before? yeah i want to do that with you", as that'd just be awkward and i have nowhere fucking near the confidence to do that with all my anxiety and whatnot. essentially i'm asking for your wisdom on how to suggest it to someone without explicitly saying that and with truckloads more anxiety than the average person. any help will be much appreciated, but keep in mind that autism bars a lot of stuff, including the ability to properly judge social situations (this is one area where i particularly struggle). thank you!!

Heya!

I've said it in the past in response to some other asks, but my partner was the one who suggested the idea of a QPR to me, not the other way around (I had no idea what QPRs were at the time), so... I'm not the best person to give advice on this TwT Of course it doesn't help that every person is different and that there's no guarantee that what works for a person will necessarily work for another...

I will say this though, in case it helps in any way: my partner had known me for a year and a half before they offered the idea, and apparently they'd wanted to offer it within just a couple months of starting to talk to me. Thing is, I'd made it clear early on that I'm not interested in romance or sex (as an aroace it's kind of something I'd built a reflex to let everyone know, at that point, so people wouldn't build expectations on me), so they might've thought even the idea of a QPR might make me wanna distance myself... But no, actually, I took it like it was a completely natural consequence with the most anticlimatic "OK sure sounds cool" imaginable.

But most importantly... "Hey have you heard of this thing called a queer-platonic relationship before? yeah i want to do that with you" IS pretty much exactly how they asked me, and that went well. If there's anything that I can offer as advice or comfort, it's that very fact. I can tell you from experience that it didn't make things awkward for me at all. The confidence part of course is another whole issue that I don't wanna downplay, though I'm not really sure what to offer as an alternative... TwT But I hope whatever you go for, it'll work out well for you in the end.

Here's pretty much word for word how it went for us, if it helps at all as well! There definitely was some tension whiplash to bear with, and some discussions that followed to see where that really left us, but in the end, we really are vibing^^ And personally, I feel there's nothing that works better than actually speaking from the heart and sincerely, as terrifying (and socially dangerous) as that can be sometimes. It can slam back in your face sometimes, I won't deny that, but it can also help a great deal other times, and in my experience, it gets easier the more you do it. Heck, I know it's easier said than done TwT But that's the most sincere thing I could say about that.

[great20sworld]

LIVING THE DREAM

A Viktor x Reader fanfiction

Author's note: Chapter 1, Chapter 2 and Chapter 3 are available in my Tumblr page along with summary.

Chapter 4: Friendly Faces...probably

________________________________

Human instincts and epinephrine fuelled actions were two things not to be underestimated. Sometimes you improvise on the stage, sometimes you stand up to that one person you hated from the beginning, sometimes you ace your job interview and sometimes...

You lift an entire building's portion. You didn't know you could have lifted a huge hunk of concrete with nothing but your bare hands without getting crushed to pieces. You just knew the kids couldn't. Although, the staring faces of the spectators wasn't something you were prepared for. The lack of applause or any signs of approval from the crowd made your social anxiety worse and you kept your head low, too shy to meet their gazes. Were there any familiar faces there? Who knows. You set aside the slab of concrete and shake out the dust, sneezing from the particles.

"I told you, right?"

The Chronoporter buzzes, making you laugh at the meek response to such a cataclysmic event.

"Yeah... That was awesome!"

"According to my calculations, you can bear atleast 28.5 times more force than back at Earth."

"Damn, I could lift an elephant..."

"Or a building." Mechanical laughter chimes.

"Yeah, yeah... let's get out of here though, people are staring..." You say hastily, shaking away the rubble which your feet were harmlessly buried in.

You quickly make your way out of the scene, opting to move behind the building, rounding the corner.

"HELLO...! PLEASE! WAIT UP!"

A high pitched call made you stop in your hasty retreat and turn to the source of sound. It was a woman in a dress, with an apron lightly dusted in flour, and a small boy clinging to her hand. She was smiling brightly as she approached you, and you noted the sweet aroma of cakes and frosting surrounding her. You couldn't help but smile at her.

"Yes...?" You say softly as she stops before you, the child staring at you wide eyed.

"You...you saved my son!" She said, looking at you like you hung the moon and stars.

"Oh... It's... it's nothing..." You laugh nervously.

"How are you so strong?" A smaller voice interrupts you, and you look down to meet the pair of cute wide eyes of her son.

"Um...I...well... Vegetables. Yes. Definitely. Eat your veggies kid!" You chuckle, looking anywhere but them.

"Please.... You are a godsend... How can I ever repay you?" The woman says, suddenly holding your hands in hers.

"Oh...um... it's really nothing, just..."

"Miss, please don't say no... I don't have much but, may I offer you some tea and cakes, atleast?" She implores, pointing behind her, where you saw a very adorable bakery, with some delectable looking snacks.

Your stomach rumbles.

Well... it's not like you had anything better to do and, lifting buildings is hard work.

"Heh...I don't see why not, since you are...insisting.." you giggle softly, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand, flattered by the way she brightens up.

_________________________

"My word Gina, these are scrumptious!" You exclaim as you bite into another fluffy cake, the frosting melting in your mouth.

"Aw, aren't you a sweetheart-thank you Y/N..." Gina smiles as she brings you a croissant next.

"....I almost feel sorry eating these, these should be payed for..." You blush, embarassed.

"Nonsense, Y/N, you saved Robert... How could I ever charge you for some sweet treats when I owe you my life?" She grumbles playfully, looking at you. "Though...I...I am really curious..."

"Yes?"

"How...?! Richard couldn't lift the crates in which the items for bakery arrives, and he's a trained sailor... How did you lift that?"

"...."

"....vegetables." you gulp.

"...."

Gina smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Alright, keep your secrets. Vegetables it is."

You smile gratefully.

"Psst... Y/N we have a problem..."

The Chronoporter says, making Gina look surprisedly at the watch dial. You panic, immediately covering it with your hand. "Eh...give me a moment, my watch is going stupid...." Giggling nervously, you turn away from her, pushing the 'mute' button on the Chronoporter.

"How dare you mute me, you puny human." Text appears on the dial and you sigh, shaking your head. "My battery is running low! Charge me!" The next texts makes your stomach drop. As if to prompt you further a small charging wire extends from an outlet at the side to your hand. If the Chronoporter dies, you're done for, stuck here.

Maybe Gina can help you, somehow?

"Hey... Gina..."

"Yes...?" She smiles.

"Do you have a...umm..."

You hesitate. There are no electrical appliances here which requires electrical outlets, right?

"....any what?"

"Any...uh... power sources... My...um...watch is dying."

"Your watch? I...don't have any clockwork batteries..." Gina says, cocking her head slightly.

"No...no, not batteries. Any... Power outlets? Something that can...uh...channel this electricity through an...electrical receptacle?"

Gina confusedly shakes her head. "I...I...didn't understand..."

"No... nevermind Gina..." You sigh dejectedly, looking at the tea swirling in your cup as you mix in sugar.

Gina hums softly in thought. "I think I know someone who can understand though... Maybe he can help you!"

You look up expectantly.

"He was just here sometime ago... He went up there..." She points to the site of the explosion, now loitered by enforcers.

"He did? Is he an enforcer ?" You look at the top of the tower, already standing up.

"No... actually he works in the academy!" She says excitedly, standing up with you.

"Ah..." A scientist, was he? Maybe this person really can help you. Probably help you out on finding your way back too.

"What's his name?" You ask, starting to walk outside.

"Viktor. His name's Viktor."

Your breath hitches. Could it be...?

"V-viktor...?"

"Yes! You've heard of him? Oh, I suppose he is an important figure, being the assistant of the dean and whatnot..."

"The...the one with a cane?" You stutter.

"Yes, him!" She beams.

It is.

Your heart thrums in your chest, and you can feel your cheeks turning red like a cherry. You'll have to go find the Viktor.

Oh gosh.

What have you gotten yourself into?

You feel a giddy sensation in your tummy, which were definitely not the cakes, as an idiotic smile creeps its way to your lips.

So this is what normal people felt when someone mentions their crush. Being the recluse you are, this is new. You look up. If you hurry, you may be able to witness something you knew would happen shortly- iconically.

You turn back to Gina, a bright smile reflecting her own finding home in your face now. "I think I'll go find Viktor there, then."

Gina nods enthusiastically. "That will help you! Oh wait... Before you go...!"

She turns to pack something for you to take along with you. Before she handed the bag to you, however, you refuse.

You are flattered beyond words at the generous offering.

"Oh Gina you don't have to... All I ask is... Can I visit, to talk...again?"

Your voice is gentle. Vulnerable, for you sincerely hadn't had such a pleasant interaction with anyone in a while.

You like her a lot.

She smiles brightly like the sun. "Ofcourse! Anytime, Y/N! I would love the company!"

_________________________

Well.

You had made many good decisions in your life.

This...

Was not a prime example.

Atleast... This was one of the better places to be lost at when compared with where you were when you arrived. You shivered slightly.

The inside of the Academy of Piltover is a labyrinthine marvel of opulent corridors and towering archways. Each hall, seems to lead to another identical passageway, making it nearly impossible to distinguish one from another. Lecture rooms, laboratories, and hidden alcoves are tucked away behind ornate doors, each marked with cryptic symbols. The air hums with the energy of countless inventions, yet for all its brilliance, the Academy feels like an endless maze.You wander through its winding corridors, each turn leading to more confusion, the echo of your footsteps keeping you company, and Chronoporter's irritating reminders to charge it. You were pretty sure you're on the top floor, but which door could it be?

Suddenly, you hear rhythmic footsteps, multiple sets of them approaching. Turning, you see a few enforcers walking, or rather, marching to a particular door. Wow, how convenient! You eagerly follow them behind, when suddenly a hand on your wrist stops you and pushes you back.

"Hold it! Where do you think you're going, miss?"

You turn around, to be met with an enforcer, a grouchy one at that. For crying out loud, did trouble follow you around? You let out a resigned sigh, lifting your gaze to meet his intimidating one.

"Is there a problem, officer?" You say, in your sweetest honey tone.

"Miss, you were seen entering the premises through... unconventional ways, from the blocked path in the fissures of the underground- from zaun."

You gulp at his accusatory tone.

"You have been involved with the explosion caused by those from the undercity. Therefore, you are to be taken under enforcer custody."

"Wait, no! I wasn't..." You start, but the enforcer seems to be repugnantly scrutinizing your old clothing, mistaking it for something straight out of zaun, covered in dust and muck after what you've been through.

"Please you have the wrong idea..."

"Is there a problem here?"

It came from behind you. That voice...

The clipped accent, the steady strong flow of calm beneath the turbulence of brilliance and smooth articulation reaches your ears like a melody.

"Sir... This lady... She is one of the suspects..." The enforcer says.

"I don't think so." Click of a cane meeting the ornate marble floors accompanied his footsteps.

"What do you know sir?"

"I believe, if she were indeed a culprit, she would run away from this building, rather than linger." The voice continues. Your feet found it extremely hard to turn and face him. So you stayed planted to your spot, not turning to look at the source of the voice which made your cheeks blush. The enforcer was silent, as the voice continues. "Also, she doesn't seem to be in possession of the stolen items from the break in."

"Besides, eh, you are supposed to assist in confiscation of these magical artifacts, aren't you officer? Sheriff Greyson awaits you inside." You could sense a smirk in the voice, your heart flutters in your chest, like a butterfly sensing pollen nearby.

The enforcer seemed to falter, stuttering lightly, indignant. He lowers his cap slightly covering his expression and walks past you, as you let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh and officer...!"

The accentuated voice calls out, "do remember that false accusations lands the accuser in trouble too, essentially ."

You hear a petty huff from the enforcer, as you bit your lip to stiffle an amused laugh, and let out the breath you didn't knew you were holding.

As the enforcer leaves however, you are faced with another issue.

Oh... oh goodness.

The cane taps comes closer...

Past you...

stopping right before you...

Your gaze is fixated on the floor.

"Miss, you should know better than to enter enforcer surveillance zones without good reason..."

The melody of his voice envelops your auditory senses.

Your gaze travels upwards to meet his gaze.

____________________________

Chapter 5 available NOW in my Tumblr page.

[brynnterpretations]

see youve been doing a lotta theboys ship reqs recently HUGE kudos to u got damn, and i love how u write them sm !! hope u dont mind one more ^^ (fine w p much anyone except homelander or deep)

im an anxiety-ridden autistic bi british tguy with a pretty hefty male lean, 5'6"-ish, long hair thats shaved on one side , lotsa face piercings , pretty hairy , scruffy jaw , got a "would be a bear if i hit the gym more often" kinda build . i wear shades 24/7 bc i hate eye contact and bright lights . i generally dont bother picking out an outfit but when i do i lean towards a kinda 50s greaser vibe even tho i dont have a bike or anything

im a recluse and not particularly social , i end most conversations quickly but politely tho i dont let myself get walked over . i do like going for walks , particularly walking my cat , or otherwise hauling something around , its a good workout , but most of the time im indoors and just drawing/animating (what im attending uni for) or playing games . i prefer talking online to in person cause of low social battery , even for family n close friends .

im insecure but otherwise i think j have pretty good self-esteem , and tho im not diagnosed im like 95% sure ive got covert narcissism , i see most people as below me in some way but i dont express this obviously . a lack of attention , particularly online , is distressing and upsetting , and i get defensive very easy . i THRIVE on the feeling of caring for or protecting someone both bc it feeds this and is the only time i can power through my social anxiety .

uhhh cat lover , marine life lover , would spend the rest of my life in an aquarium , would rather be a shark than a human , dont like getting dressed if i dont have to , nail biter , dragon fanatic , would probably be a supe given the chance

hope thats not too much , and thank you !

Thank you so much for the kind words! I hope you like this. ♡

I ship you with...

Frenchie ♡

Boyfriend

GIF Source: @samuelroukin ★ (link)

You and Frenchie meet while you're walking your cat. Frenchie is a huge cat guy (I will die on this hill), and though he hasn't had any of his own since his early twenties, he still makes it his mission to interact with them as much as he can. Cat on the street? Gets pet. Cat in those windows of veterinary offices that you can walk into if you don't seem too shady? Gets pet. Cat in a house the coup is raiding? Gets pet, and moved to a safer location.

So, when he sees your cat being walked, the dude has to go over. Plus, not gonna lie, even in NYC, it's pretty uncommon to see cats being walked, especially down the street that the boys' hideout is located on.

He uses small talk to warm up the awkwardness that comes with a random French man coming up on the street to pet your cat, and eventually asks if you'd ever want to go on a walk sometime. While he initially had his eyes set on your cat, when the guy looked up at you, he immediately saw that you're really, really cute. He has a weakness for facial piercings and for general "scruffiness", so add that on to the cat and the general reservedness? Bro's set.

Through that, you start hanging out a lot and getting to know each other. Frenchie's not a texting person, so you two tend to call a lot, and have a lot of cute but low-key dates, like cooking meals for you at his apartment and playing video games.

And, on that note: Frenchie absolutely sucks at video games, but he has fun playing them with you. While Frenchie is very spatially aware in real life, he is not in online games — bro would get absolutely flamed in any CoD lobby — but would have a blast going through your video game of choice by your side.

You would have to help him with the controls... a lot... but it would be worth it.

Frenchie doesn't really believe in "rushing in" or "waiting too long"; he just makes it official once he feels like it's right. After 2 – 3 months with you, he'd ask if you'd like to be together upfront.

And, once you are: you two would be very, very happy together.

Frenchie's a very intuitive person, and while he wouldn't make any assumptions considering your diagnoses/suspected conditions (he's not about that life), he would catch on to your need for attention and care.

Since he's not really a texter, he'd either call you or send you voice notes to say good morning, good night, tell you about something that reminded him of you, etc.

Is your #1 fan concerning your art, and is endlessly in awe of what you do. He would constantly show your work off to the coup, and would definitely commission you for artwork when your schoolwork slowed down (no, he won't accept free shit, he will commission you, point-blank).

Considering Frenchie's been through a lot, you being a caring person and a "protector" would do wonders for the relationship. While Frenchie's a protective guy himself, the dude wants some time to slow down and be taken care of, and would love anything you did for him and reciprocate it completely.

Is a huge physical touch guy, and as long as you were fine with it, would always have an arm around you, his hand in yours, etc.

Also would definitely love to be the little spoon with you, especially because you're very close in height (he's about 5'8).

Is a big gift-giver, and would always purchase anything he saw that reminded him of you, whether it's a shark stuffed animal, or one of those seashell necklaces that street vendors sell.

Also, he's a bit freaked out about marine life — the vastness of the ocean really, really freaks him out, partially because of a near-drowning accident he had as a kid — but would always go to aquariums with you and try to find aquatic spaces to do stuff.

He would do the ocean, but as much as he loves you, he's probably gonna try limiting that to special occasions.

Would 100% spoil your cat, and if you were up for it, adopt one for you two to co-parent.

Also doesn't have many reservations about moving in "early" — again, timestamps aren't really too important to him — and would especially encourage it if it helped any student finances.

On that note, the guy cannot do structured and organized learning, so he would always brag about your postsecondary education and do everything to encourage you, whether it's bringing you your favorite snacks while working on end-of-the-year projects or rubbing your hands and back after finishing an art piece.

He wouldn't hide his work with the Boys from you, and honestly, would encourage you to get involved, particularly through artwork — anti-Supe propaganda, especially aesthetic pleasing ones, have been lacking nowadays. He'd be open about his work and introduce you to the boys before you became official.

And that brings us to...

The Boys ☻

Friends

GIF Source: @yocalio ★ (link)

So, it's corny... but you and Butcher definitely both bond over both being British/from the U.K. You're one of very few people who were able to immediately understand both his accident and what he was referring to in British slang upon first meeting.

Plus, the guy likes you, even if he doesn't talk to you much. He respects reserved types a lot, and appreciates you leveling out Frenchie's chaos instead of blowing it up (...most of the time).

He wouldn't make an effort to get super close to you — let's be real, he's got a lot of shit to deal with — but would probably invite you out for drinks every once in a while.

A dealbreaker for Frenchie is whether you get along with Kimiko, and fortunately, you two do. While you're not extremely close — you're both pretty introverted, and Kimiko never wants to feel like she's prying — Kimiko really, really likes you, especially when she sees you drawing. She's quite the artist herself, and is fascinated by not only your amazing work, but by the fact you're going to college for it.

Whenever you stop by the hideout, she wouldn't communicate with you much, instead opting to just enjoy your company in silence.

And, if you bring art supplies, she would be so down to parallel-play with you and her drawing side-by-side. While she's not academically trained, she is extremely good at drawing landscapes, and would be very intrigued by your art, as mentioned.

Also would draw you as a present, which would be very cute, even if not fully anatomically correct.

M.M. would like you a lot — he vibes with the shades the first time he sees you — and I feel like you two would be the closest out of the coup. While him encouraging you to would be a bit... annoying... the guy really enjoys your company, and would bond over your shared love of cats.

Would also ask you a lot of questions about cats, because his cat is getting a bit too pudgy and might need to take some strolls downtown.

While you'd be close, he wouldn't ask to hang out with you too much outside of the coup, instead having most of your fun during late nights, considering he's so busy; he'd probably order a pizza for you, Frenchie, and Kimiko and talk with you, and play video games on the very rusty-crusty-dusty XBox that they got to placate Hughie.

Also: he's killer at FPS games, and if you play one with him, y'all will immediately become best friends.

Hughie, Annie, and you wouldn't be super close, but you wouldn't be on bad terms either.

Hughie, quite honestly, would be intimidated; as a ball of social anxiety who tends to seek out more talkative types (E.G. Robin and Annie), he tends to overthink with more quiet people who are less easy to read, and your shades can make it pretty hard for him.

However, your art would definitely lead him to talk to you more (albeitly awkwardly and only in passing), and, if you or Frenchie mention that you play video games... he would try engaging in a yap session with you.

Yes, yes, it's not a stereotypical, "cool guy" game, but Hughie is a huge fan of Minecraft — he's an excellent architect and has actually made tons of custom maps for people to download — so if you play either (or you don't give him a hard time about it), he'd open up to you a lot more.

As for Annie, she just... can't really get a vibe on you. She thinks you're a pleasant person and respects you (she has a lot of admiration for people who go into the arts), but she's someone who believes to be able to "vibe-check" people pretty easily, and because she can't on you, doesn't really know where to go from there.

She wouldn't want to pry, so she wouldn't push you to open up yourself, but if she got more glimmers of you — whether it's through overseeing you and Kimiko drawing, or catching you and M.M. playing on the XBox — she'd spark up a lot more conversations with you.

[weirdowithaquill]

Do you have any headcanons for Duncan and Cody?

Thank you for asking, I do! (And to clarify, I'm going to guess this is a Duncody (Coduncan?) ask, though they will get separate headcanons too.)

Headcanon 1: Duncan doesn't get with either Gwen or Courtney post-canon. If we ignore Season 5 (more on All Stars later), then we end with him sort of with Gwen - only, I can't see that lasting. It's a rebound for both of them, and worse yet: Gwen regretted it. She regretted it during Season 3, and had they not been on a reality show, she'd have probably either cut and dumped, or tried to fix things with Courtney. Post-canon, both girls cut things off with Duncan for good over one thing or another.

Headcanon 2: Cody is a major flirt in Season 1 to cover his social anxiety. This is a teen who lives with family who are definitely well-off and also very neglectful. He is literally playing a part that he's seen on TV before, and trying his best to fit in. And had he not been mauled by a bear; he'd probably have done rather well! I mean, he had stopped pestering Gwen and promised to put in a good word for her!

But seriously dude, you were so out of your depth.

Headcanon 3: Duncan's parole officer is the person who Duncan first told about his sexuality. Chris claims that the parole officer is his best friend after the doctor challenge in Season 2, and that tells me that these two have a close friendship. Furthermore, Duncan actually seems excited. So these two are friends - which may be because said parole officer is the only person Duncan can actually talk to. His parents don't like his delinquency (his father specifically), so there is probably tension there, making the parole officer someone to talk to; someone for Duncan to share his secrets with.

Headcanon 4: Cody is a Total Drama equivalent of Tim Drake, minus the whole Batfam thing (and the stalking). We know that his parents are extremely neglectful - I mean, they forget their own son's birthday! - which sounds familiar. Secondly, both characters have wealthy parents who go on long trips without them. Both have trouble with socialising normally when first interacting with people outside their families (flirting uncontrollably and being the world's biggest awkward muffin and saying "hello, I know you're a superhero and I saw your parents die. Can you control your other parent who has gone off the rails after your adopted brother died"). That is not normal!

Oh, and both are bi icons.

Headcanon 5: Cody knew Trent and Courtney pre-Season 1. All three are noted as being on the wealthier end of the spectrum, and considering how his parents treat Cody, it's likely he shares the unfortunate fortune of also being wheeled out at every social event for networking purposes. He knows the two of them, but he knows Trent better. Trent is far more chill than Courtney, and was closer. It's why Cody is in a position where Gwen respects that he will 'put in a good word' with Trent.

Headcanon 6: Duncan and Cody like each other as friends in the early seasons. Remember, Duncan was ruthless back then, especially to those he saw as weak or nerdy (Noah, Harold) but he leaves Cody alone. Chalk that to being on different teams or whatever, but Duncan also (in one version) wins Season 2, and I'd put good money on Cody voting for him. And this goes without mentioning the fact that he is very perturbed by Sierra in Season 3. Which leads me to...

Headcanon 7: Sierra is the reason behind Cody swearing off women, as well as Duncan getting closer to Cody. This woman literally drugged Cody, not to mention kidnapped him, stalked him, violated him multiple times, and generally disturbed him. She also fueled Duncan, Courtney and Gwen's drama with glee - which is great for reality TV, sure - but it's also pretty shitty to wade into that explicitly to cause more issues. By the end of the series (in spite of Cody's punch), Duncan is on Team Cody. Whether or not it's cause he likes Cody or hates Heather and Alejandro is debatable, but he's still there.

Headcanon 8: Cody did legit punch Duncan (though he claimed he took a dive), but not cause he liked Gwen. Ever been so annoyed at how stupid someone is that you hit them? Yeah, it's that.

Headcanon 9: Duncan accepted this. Eventually. It took him getting booted and seeing just how stupid he was to realise, but he did. Yeah, Cody did have to do some groveling and apologising, but they managed to figure themselves out. And it was actually that punch that earnt Cody Duncan's respect!

Headcanon 10: without Season 5, they two get together a few years down the track, staying friends after TDWT, catching up and discovering they aren't too far from one another. Cody is there for when Duncan and Gwen break up, and helps them stay amicable. He's just there in general, and they just... fall in love. By this point, Gwen is friendly enough with the pair to give Duncan the shovel talk for Cody and all is happy!

But Season 5... Well, it gives us something interesting to work with, because it fully ends the Duncan drama, and isolates him from the others before dropping him in jail. But it does more than that: it puts Cody firmly back in Duncan's mind... again, thanks to Sierra. That woman is still coo coo for cocopuffs over Cody, and its shoved in his face constantly. It pushes Duncan to reach out to Cody afterwards, to check on him. And then... well, that's a thought for another day!

[wolveswithblackpearls]

When the nights get cold

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, dog hybrid!baekhyun x reader (if romantic or not is up for interpretation)

cw: nightmares, feelings of panic and anxiety, laboratory/hospital setting in the first half, violence mention, abuse mention (non-sexual), medical experiments mention

word count: ~1.6k

a/n: hey there @vampwrrr - 'tis me, your secret santa (find me @starchild--27, I am Admin S on here ^-^) and i come bearing gifts, hehe :D i did a little mix of all the things we talked about the last few months with what you promted for your gift, so i hope you have fun reading this little one-shot i came up with! i, for one, had lots of fun with it xD gave me a chance to dive into unknown waters here - i never wrote anything in this setting before!

finally, a big thank you @exols-silver-christmas for hosting yet another year of exo-l secret santa. it takes a lot to organize all this so i am, as always, very thankful that we can enjoy this event again this year. i can't wait to see all the creative things everyone came up with! <3

~ Admin S

-

Baekhyun woke up feeling uncomfortable. It was the rough fabric of the hospital gown against his skin. It was the cold metal chain that ran tightly over his face. It was the darkness and the penetrating smell of disinfectant. He hated it all. So much he just wanted to fall asleep again. But the bed had no pillow and no blanket, and he was freezing too much to fall asleep again.

I am back.

The thought slowly settled in his mind, exhaustion and resignation putting a dull feeling in his chest. He had been here before, in “The Clinic” as the people here liked to call it. But he knew that clinics are to help people that are hurt. And this place did the exact opposite. This place was a lab. And he had been created here. From some scraps of DNA the doctors had collected and altered.

Baekhyun didn’t know the specifics of how the lab worked, how they got the resources they needed, what the purpose of it all was. And he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to know. And while the question of “why” was a huge mystery to Baekhyun, the goal of The Clinic was quite clear. They wanted to create a new species. They were breeding hybrids. And Baekhyun was one of those.

Raised under constant probing and testing for the first couple years of his life, then put in a shelter with other hybrids to be socialized and later to be sold. And even then, there was no escaping The Clinic. There were regular checkups and tests the hybrids had to undergo, even after being bought.

Baekhyun crouched on the cold bed, thoughts racing. Why was he here again? Why didn’t he remember how he got here?  Why didn’t he remember what had happened before he fell asleep? Anxiously, his tail wrapped around his legs while he rested his chin on his right knee and he realized how helpless he was. He didn’t know what to do, how to get out. Damn, he didn’t even know what year it was.

Goosebumps spread over his skin. This was the most scared he had felt in a long while. It reminded him of when he was still a puppy that hadn’t known anything but the lab. Even back then, when he was entirely disoriented, he knew this was not a good place. He might not have understood it back then but he had felt distinctly that this place was harming him.

The utter silence made Baekhyun nervous. Or was it just the lack of any hints that would indicate other alive beings close by? He didn’t know and his ears twitched restlessly, eager to pick up a sound. Any sound. Just… anything besides the sound of his own beating heart.

Baekhyun put his head between his knees and buried his hands in the hair at the back of his head, tightly shutting his eyes and praying for it all to go away. Praying that, when he released all the tension in his body, he would be at a better place, a safer place.

But Baekhyun was scared. He didn’t dare to let go, to loosen his grip on himself. Any moment without your guard up would be exploited. That’s what his years in The Clinic had taught him so painfully. He couldn’t let go. They would come and immobilize him in ways that hurt and give him medicine that made him feel sick and run tests until he passed out from exhaustion. He couldn’t let go. He couldn’t let go. He couldn't-

A blaring noise ripped through the quiet, so sudden that Baekhyun let out a bark. That never happened. But, gosh, this was an alert of some sort and Baekhyun could practically feel this horrible, booming sound vibrating in his bones.

He had to get out.

Faster than he thought his body would be ready, he scrambled off the bed. The floor was unbelievably cold against his bare feet, but he started running towards the exit anyway. He pulled harshly and opened the door just far enough so he could slip through and out in the long, white hallway that was rhythmically illuminated in deep red from the flaring warning light. Baekhyun didn’t have time to look around more, he just bolted into a random direction. All he wanted was to get away from this room, but as soon as he had started running down the hallway, he started to hear steps behind him. Fast. Running.

He peaked. It was the nurses. Their skin-tight, white uniforms had them look like they were clones themselves. They might as well have been. There was no way of knowing what else was going on in The Clinic - and if there was a way, Baekhyun didn’t want to know it, wanted to be as far away as possible from that way. 

When he heard the nurses’ steps accelerating, Baekhyun ran even faster. He had not expected to have enough strength for that. His sight got blurry and his cheeks were getting wet. He could tell by the cold feeling that bloomed where the tears were running down his face. But he couldn’t stop running. Not when there were these nurses following him. They would catch him and do God-knows-what to him and-

-- -- --

Baekhyun opened his eyes so abruptly that it startled you a little, despite having tried to wake him up for the past few minutes.

He had been shaking in his sleep for a while now. You were laying next to him, waiting for this painful scene to come to a halt again but it only got worse the further the nightmare progressed. He started whimpering and yipping, making the most puppy-like noises you have ever heard from him.

You had tried to soothe him without waking him at first, started with rubbing his back and stroking his exposed arm. That usually calmed him a lot – but not this time. So you adjusted his blanket that he had kicked away from his body, letting his own warmth comfort him and, as a last resort, softly petted the wild strands of his hair. But nothing helped. When tears started running down his face, you decided it was best to wake him up and free him from whatever was going on in his head.

You had a pretty good idea what he must have been dreaming about. That was not the first time Baekhyun had suffered from these nightmares and when it got as bad as tonight, they were most likely about The Clinic. Just the thought of that place started a fire of scorching fury in your belly. They gave him pain his entire life and not even now that he got out of their grasp, he had no peace. You didn’t want to imagine the things that happened to the hybrids and other “experiments” there. Actual living beings, scientifically created there, only to-

You closed your eyes and forcefully stopped your train of thought. Your anger wouldn’t help anyone. Not right now, in the middle of the night with a scared dog hybrid sitting next to you, his messy black-and-white hair sticking out in every direction, puppy ears pressed flat against his head, whimpering quietly in the darkness as he wiped the tears from his face with shaking hands.

You took a few deep breaths and slowly so that Baekhyun wouldn’t get even more scared, wrapped your arms around his warm body from behind. And as soon as Baekhyun felt your presence, he let himself melt in your hug and shifted to rest even more comfortably in your arms, turning around to rest his head against your chest and your arms to wrap around his shoulders. Softly, you started to stroke his back again and tried to breath very calmly so Baekhyun’s irregular gasping for air would calm eventually as well.

You knew better than to confront him with questions in this situation. He needed to calm down first, realize that he is not in a dangerous situation anymore, that he is at a safe place, and he needed to take his time for that. The last thing both of you needed at this moment was another panic attack caused by Baekhyun being overwhelmed.

You lifted your eyes from the top of Baekhyun’s head and gazed towards the window. Tonight, the temperatures had dropped deep, and it had started to snow. It was always the first icy cold nights that gave Baekhyun the worst nightmares. It had something to do with the whiteness, quiet and cold that reminded him of The Clinic. It made you even more determined to create good and happy memories in the winter months with him.

You loved the winter, the crisp cold and how the first snow makes the world look like it has been put under a spell that makes everything really still and silent. It had always felt magical to you and even if Baekhyun would always feel a much greater relief when spring would finally come around, you didn’t want the nightmares to be the only thing Baekhyun remembered from winter nights. But it would take work to get there. He had been through too much. You had heard a lot about it from Baekhyun already but you weren’t sure if you knew everything yet. And if tonight’s nightmare brought up new memories that caused the dream to be especially bad this time around.  

But you were certain, Baekhyun would immediately talk to you tonight. When he felt he was ready and not in shock anymore. You two would figure it all out from there. Or maybe you would just fall asleep again and figure it out tomorrow. And with Baekhyun’s breath becoming more and more even and your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier… tomorrow didn’t seem like such a bad plan.

[lifeinpoetry]

Hi I'm so happy to see you on my dash again :) Your blog has always felt like a safe space to me. How are you doing? I hope you're well. Thanks for posting the free Palestine reading list.

Hi, thank you so much, lovely <3

Had been holding onto the links for a while and even posted to my then brand-new Bluesky account but kept thinking I should post the links I'd bookmarked here but wasn't sure I wanted to jump back into posting regularly anywhere. The ongoing genocide felt more and more urgent and keeping silent while I had a platform felt like being complicit even though the only place I was truly active on was Goodreads.

I am okay. I wasn't okay for a good long while, but I think I'm in a likely short-lived easing of the depression/anxiety/hallucinations that have made up the past year.

I don't know if I wrote about this but we had to make the decision to have Bear, our then-14/15-year-old poodle, put to sleep because his health had gotten so bad. We had taken him in from the streets when he was 1-2 year(s) old after his owners had their house foreclosed and left him behind. I miss him all the time.

Baby S had brain surgery to put in a shunt and is doing a whole lot better though she does have PTSD/medical trauma. Baby A is nearly two, boisterous and as clever as Houdini in freeing herself from anything with straps/play pens/etc. We became a family placement after she was taken at birth by social workers and nearly adopted out to non-family.

These two small humans have made the past year bearable even though I'm not a parent and have never wanted to be a parent. I love them with all my heart.

The rage is gone now that the verbal/emotional abuse is over, has been over for about three years (?), and it doesn't seem it will return. I thought rage was just part of my natural make up but it isn't, it was a response to being attacked daily with no true response, deflection, or attempt to end the conversation that was acceptable. People would tell me to walk away, to change the subject, to say to agree to disagree and I tried all these but it was hard when the majority of the time it would lead to them raging and let's be real, it's near impossible to walk away when you were in your room minding your business and the other person is looming at the door.

I know that's old news but I've been thinking about it a lot because of the babies. I'm glad I can be my best self, feel no desire to snap at them, and have tapped into a well of patience for both myself and them.