#that was a good purchase and i stand by that

[puckinghischier]

Can I request a fic where reader and Quinn argue about his stupid sauna in the kitchen? I would love to argue with this man about how ridiculous it is to have a whole ass sauna in the kitchen of all places. Like did the Costco delivery guys laugh when you said you wanted it in the KITCHEN because I would’ve.

“quinn, we really can’t put that anywhere else in here? what about the whole extra bedroom?” you huff, watching the delivery men put the final touches on the large sauna now taking up half of the already small kitchen.

“the kitchen is more convenient, don’t you think?” he reasons, standing back to admire his new purchase.

you look over at him, bewildered.

“quinn…you really think the kitchen is the most convenient place for a sauna?”

“well, yeah. that way when we’re cooking it’ll already get warm in here, so i can fire her up at the same time and it won’t be uncomfortable or anything,” he answers, as serious as can be.

you just stare at him, not even knowing how to respond to his reasoning.

“hey man, just making sure this is where you want this to go before we take it off of the dolly,” the man doing the installation pops out from behind the assembled sauna.

quinn looks over to you before answering. “yeah man, this is the place. i’m sure.”

the delivery man also looks over to you, as if asking for a final confirmation.

“whatever. sure. if he wants it in the kitchen, in the kitchen it goes,” you throw your hands up in surrender, knowing if you have them move it quinn will pout until the end of time.

“alright, but once we place it we won’t be able to move it without taking it apart,” the man chuckles, giving quinn one more chance to change his mind.

quinn looks at the sauna once more, taking his hands and ‘framing’ out the space like he’s on some home improvement show. with one swift nod of his head and big smile, he confirms they have it in the exact spot he wants it. “yeah, man, right here is perfect.”

the next time the two of you host a few of his teammates and their wives/girlfriends at your apartment, the new addition to the kitchen is quickly brought up.

“huggy…why did you put your sauna in the kitchen, dude? don’t you have a spare room in here?” brock asks, standing by the island and observing the large box off to the side of your kitchen.

“brock, don’t bring it up. we don’t talk about it,” you sigh, warning him.

brock looks over to you, confused, until he hears “oh, i’m so glad you asked, boeser. so, you see….” as quinn launches into his list of arguments for why the kitchen is the perfect place for a sauna, looking over at you every few minutes as if to say ‘see, it’s a good idea’, still trying to prove he’s right after all of the various arguments you two have shared over the contraption.

[1425fivefive]

oscarmark + chastity (+virginity?) 🥺

i did chastity only. also baby's first oscmark 🥹 (for this kink prompt ask)

“You can’t be serious,” Oscar said.

Mark shrugged. “Seb swore by it.”

“Sure, but”—Oscar glanced down at Mark’s phone, flushing at the sight of the metal cage still filling the screen—“he didn’t wear a cage.”

Mark laughed, mean and mocking. “Think Seb had a bit more self control than you.”

Oscar’s flush deepened. Mark had walked in on him wanking in his driver room one time and acted like Oscar was a fucking sex addict. Mark hadn’t even told him to stop, had just shoved Oscar to his knees and had Oscar suck him off, made Oscar get off humping his leg like a dog. Oscar didn’t think Mark had any leg to stand on when it came to self control.

But Oscar didn’t stop Mark when Mark added it to his shopping cart and hit purchase. 

After it arrived, Mark dragged Oscar into the shower, shaved the sensitive skin around Oscar’s cock and balls, Mark’s rough hands gentle and precise. Oscar’s skin was pink and fresh and new after he stepped out of the shower. He felt pretty, almost, as he settled on the edge of the bed, spreading his thighs to make space for Mark. He wondered if Mark thought so too.

Mark didn’t say anything, but he traced a finger over the soft, newly-shaved skin above Oscar’s cock. When Oscar shivered, cock starting to firm up, Mark smacked Oscar’s balls, just hard enough to hurt.

“Fuck,” Oscar groaned, folding in on himself.

“Can’t put the cage on if you’re hard,” Mark said shortly.

Oscar whimpered but he tipped his head back to look up at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything other than the sight of Mark holding the cage.

Though Oscar wouldn’t admit it, he’d been thinking about it ever since Mark showed it to him. Thinking about Mark putting it on him before and after races, making sure Oscar didn’t touch himself when it was off. Thinking about Mark taking it off to shave him, keep him clean. Thinking about Mark fucking him with it on, how much it would hurt when he tried and failed to get hard.

Thinking about all that had his cock firming up again and Mark aimed another slap to his balls, harder this time.

Oscar yelped at the ache that shot through him, blinking back tears.

“If you can’t stay soft on your own,” Mark said, voice firm, “I’ll have to get ice.”

“No,” Oscar whimpered, cock already softening at the thought of Mark pressing ice to it, the searing cold against his sensitive skin.

Mark sighed, the long-suffering kind that always made Oscar feel like one of Mark’s kids. It probably said something fucked up about Oscar that he sort of liked feeling that way.

“Think this just proves why you need the cage,” Mark said shortly, before reaching down to tug Oscar balls through the ring. He was quick about it, efficient, almost like he’d done it before. Oscar tried not to think about where Mark might’ve practiced.

Mark slid the rest of the cage over Oscar’s cock, the click of the lock deafening in the quiet of Oscar’s flat.

Oscar’s cock immediately tried to stiffen at the sound, aching as it pressed against the bars of the cage. Oscar whined, bringing a hand down to press at his cock, like his hand would give him any relief. It felt good, in a fizzy, far-off sort of way, but Oscar knew he’d never be able to come like this.

The thought had Oscar blinking up at Mark with what he was sure was a desperate expression, hand still rubbing uselessly over his locked-up cock.

“Please,” Oscar whimpered. “I want to—I have to—”

“God,” Mark said, barking out a laugh. “Only a minute in and you’re already begging for it.”

Oscar was, he was, he felt so fucking desperate for it now that he couldn’t have it, desperate to touch his cock and stroke it and have Mark’s mouth around it. He pressed harder against his cock, tears springing to his eyes when he couldn’t get any relief.

“Stop,” Mark ordered.

Oscar let out a devastated little whine but he dropped his hand, staring mournfully down at his cock, swollen in its cage.

Mark made a small noise and when Oscar looked up at him Mark’s jaw was slack, a dark hungry expression on his face as he stared at Oscar’s cock.

Oscar wondered if Mark had really done this for himself. Told Oscar it’d help with his racecraft, help with his focus, when really Mark just wanted him like this. Locked up and needy, desperate and aching for it.

Oscar couldn’t hold back a moan at the thought, the idea of Mark wanting him like this, only for him. 

He spread his thighs wider, putting himself on display, trying to show off the tight little package of his cock.

“Jesus,” Mark groaned.

Oscar ducked his head down, looking up at Mark through his lashes in the way he knew drove Mark crazy. “Y’can still fuck me.” 

Oscar couldn’t imagine how awful it’d feel to be fucked like this, his cock red and leaking in its cage, rocking with every thrust of Mark’s hips. Oscar wanted it more than anything. Maybe Oscar could buy Mark a chain, have Mark wear the key on it while he fucked him, force Oscar to see what he’d let Mark do to him. The thought had Oscar reaching down to palm at his cock, whining when it only made everything worse.

Mark didn’t say anything, just reached forward and snatched Oscar’s wrist, yanking his hand away from his cock.

“Stop. Touching,” Mark gritted out. “That’s not yours to play with.”

Oscar whimpered, thighs spreading wider.

“Whose is it?” Mark asked, fingers tightening on Oscar’s wrist.

“Yours,” Oscar whispered. He debated for only a second before adding, “Daddy.”

Oscar barely had a second to breathe before he was being shoved back onto the bed, hips dragged right to the edge. Couldn’t catch his breath as he watched Mark pull his shirt over his head and shove his boxers and trousers to the floor all in one go, his thick cock bobbing.

Mark stepped to the edge of the bed, slapping his cock on Oscar’s stomach, right next to Oscar’s, tiny in comparison in its cage.

“Look at you,” Mark said, fond and mocking all at once.

Oscar whimpered, cock leaking feebly, trying and failing to get hard.

“Not really good for anything, is it?” Mark asked, dragging his cock over Oscar’s caged one. Mark spit on his hand, before bringing it down to rub at Oscar’s rim, checking that he was still open from when they’d fucked that morning.

Oscar didn’t answer. He’d sort of thought the question was rhetorical, honestly.

But Mark pressed against Oscar’s hole, his spit and the leftover lube and come from earlier barely enough to ease the way, and asked, “Is it?”

“No,” Oscar whispered, so turned on and ashamed he thought he might cry.

“Good boy,” Mark said, sounding pleased, proud, almost, before dragging his cock down to Oscar’s hole, pressing in, hot and huge and overwhelming.

Oscar gasped at the stretch. It wasn’t nearly wet enough but Mark grabbed the lube off Oscar’s nightstand before Oscar could complain, squirting a bit directly onto Oscar’s hole.

Oscar shivered at the cold but he forgot as soon as Mark kept pressing in, making Oscar take it, staring down at Oscar’s swollen cock.

“God,” Mark moaned. “You need it so bad.”

Oscar sniveled, nodded.

“Reckon I was right to lock you up,” Mark said, starting to move, pushing little gasps out of Oscar with each slap of his hips against Oscar’s arse. “Need it too bad. Probably why you keep letting Norris beat you. Can’t stop thinking about getting your cock in him.”

Oscar gasped, staring up at Mark in shock. He’d never thought about Lando like that, wasn’t interested in anyone other than Mark, really, but the thought of it, of Mark being jealous. Of Mark caring enough to want Oscar all to himself.

Mark sneered. “Imagine if he saw you like this,” Mark said. “Saw what you were really good for.”

Oscar whimpered, cock pulsing in its cage, drooling pre-come over the metal bars. Oscar wanted to beg Mark to touch it, drag a thumb over the swollen head, but he knew it wouldn’t feel good. Knew it’d only be an awful reminder of what he couldn’t have.

Mark angled his thrusts up, dragging his cock against Oscar’s prostate. Oscar had never been able to come from just prostate stimulation before but he felt desperate enough that he tried to focus, tried to will his body along, rim tightening around Mark.

Mark groaned at the feeling, hips stuttering. “Fuck, Oscar, gonna make me come if you keep that up.”

“No,” Oscar gasped, wrapping his legs around Mark’s waist, dragging him closer. “Don’t—I have to—need to—”

“Aw,” Mark said, voice mocking even as Oscar saw the arousal plain on his face. “Trying to come?”

Oscar whined but he nodded, frantic. “Please.”

Mark barked out a laugh. “Nah,” Mark said, bringing his hand up to splay across Oscar’s stomach, just above his caged cock, “don’t think you’ll be doing that for a while.”

Oscar gasped, eyes filling with tears. His cock pulsing in its cage, red and dripping and angry and he let out an awful sob, deep and devastated, the gravity of what he’d let Mark do sinking in. That he’d be like this for as long as Mark wanted him to be, needy and strung out and desperate, swollen and begging for it.

Oscar let out another sob, a tear slipping down his cheek, and he brought a hand up to scrub desperately at it, trying to hide it from Mark.

But Mark seemed to notice because he let out a low fuck and pressed in deep, wet warmth flooding Oscar as Mark started to come. It only made Oscar sob harder, feeling Mark get to chase his pleasure and get it.

“Please,” Oscar begged, voice wet. “Please, Mark, please, you have to—”

Mark shushed him, bringing a hand down to squeeze Oscar’s cock.

Oscar whimpered but he stopped begging, trying to blink away tears.

“Good boy,” Mark murmured, bending down to press a kiss to Oscar’s forehead, still buried in him. “Good boy, letting me have you like this.”

Oscar shuddered, wanted to keep begging, but when Mark pulled back and looked at him, eyes gentle and awed, Oscar forced himself to stop. Forced himself to remember that if this was the way Mark wanted him, he’d keep doing it until the day Mark stopped wanting him.

[newkatzkafe2023]

Hi. I think our beloved monkey doesn't like lipstick and lip gloss. They smell strange to him, don't taste too good, and stain his fur. But once a reader buys a lipstick / gloss with peach flavor, the number of kisses mysteriously doubles. Can you write something about this, please?

Kiss Kiss Fall in love😘💋

(Lmk Wukong) The smells definitely mess with his head admittedly, and he would get headaches, especially from the fruity ones. Though once he ment you he seen you put on many kinds of lipgloss, and it was cute on you but one day he smell something very familiar. You had purchased a new lipstick that was peach scented and wanted to show Wukong, but it seems it had already flipped a switch. Next thing anyone knew, you both were making out on the couch and had a derpy expression at the end.

(HIB Wukong) Yeah he finds the smells to be an inconvenience, especially when he had a forming headache already. Though he still always makes sure to compliment you on all the new looks he would have. Though something was very different this time as it felt familiar to him in some way, until he found out what it was. You had gotten a peach scented lipgloss and showed it to Wukong, of course he liked it but uhhh the smell was making his head spin. The final blow was you telling him that it's also peach flavored as well, let's just say Wukong was on you like white on rice.

(MKR Wukong) He hates the smells most make up would have, and will never understand how women could stand it. Though he does know that you would wear it at times, soo good for you wifey. Though one day you had told him you purchased a lipgloss and wanted to know his opinion of how it looked on you, but what he didn't expect was it to make your lips smell like peaches. I'm sure how you know how that went😉

(NR Wukong) Well he actually doesn't mind the many smells of make up. I mean their are Many kinds of lipsticks and lipgloss he has encountered over the centuries, then when he met you he had seen you wear all flavors of lipgloss. Then one day he smelled something rather familiar on your lips, you told him you got peach flavored lipstick and had offer to try it with you😉 one frantic make out session later he face, lips and parts of his chest and neck was completely cover in lipstick💄

(Netflix Wukong) Yeah never understood the whole concept of make up, which is a little unusual considering his vanity and how much time he would stare at the mirror. Though he does love how it makes you look even more beautiful than before, but one day you had came home you smelled different but also familiar. When Wukong had went to see you he saw that you had pink lipgloss on, looking all sweet the when you kissed him he had found that you tasted like peaches as well. He wants more kisses now.......💋

(BMW Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhhh, ummm, I'm not sure what to say in this one, especially when he's aware of different kinds of makeup, but he also doesn't think they were big deals. Now, of course, he loved the way makeup makes you look, he saw you were showing off your new lipgloss. It made your lips look all cute and pretty in pink not to mention shiny too. Though what got him going was the peach scent that came from your lips, and with that you both made out in private.

(Destined one) He also doesn't have a big opinion on it, but what makes you look pretty. Personally the destined one thinks you could do without the make up considering you were always beautiful. Then one day you told him that you had bought new lipgloss and wanted his opinion on it, the destined one was curious on it too. Though he was in for quite a shock when he smelled peaches from you now pretty pink lips, you know what else he didn't expect, was to kiss his face cover in smudged face kisses🥰.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG

[cxffecoupx]

dear santa

lee seokmin + jokingly going up to the santas at the mall and embarrassing the other one wc: 645 warnings: written in a rush to finish the series, seokmin being painfully embarassing author's notes: I'm so sorry I keep posting such mediocre stuff i really don't wish to😭😭 also this should preferably be read before chan's drabble 'wrapping errors'. but I hope you like it <3 winter wonderland masterlist

"i think the store over there has some good gifts," you point towards the store with one hand to seokmin around who you've wrapped your other hand.

seokmin's still in awe over all the christmas decorations done in the mall when you look at him. red sparkling decor hangs from the high roof, glistening when light hits it at particular angles; lights arranged in the figures of reindeers and pandas; arches made of green leaves, with stars dangling at points; santas standing at various places in the mall, talking and playing with the kids that have come to the shopping center.

christmas is in full swing here.

however, you're falling behind because the two of you have spent days procrastinating and postponing buying the gifts for people you're meeting on christmas. like every year, all of you are meeting at seungcheol's place for the big bash he throws regularly, and for you, staying away from your family, they have become a second family to you.

you head over to the shop and look around for a while, contemplating whether to buy the most beautiful things you see there, even though they're basically useless to anyone. you manage to purchase a few presents, and when you're leaving, you notice that seokmin is nowhere to be found.

hands full of bags and gifts, you exit the store, mind wandering just like your eyes trying to spot him in the crowd. couples and families thronged the place, kids walking around with balloons and candies possibly gifted by the santas.

how the hell were you gonna find him?

the thought didn't stay for long when you hear his voice from somewhere, "yn!!"

"minnie?" when you look over though, you instantly wish that you hadn't.

there he stood, a few feet away from you, wearing an exact same white beard like the santa standing near him. the prop looked odd with the rest of his clothes, and his pose suggested that he was clearly losing some marbles. even the santa nearby seemed to ignore the embarassing creature standing near him.

you'd always had the fantasy of him role-playing as santa during sex, especially around xmas, but if this is what it's gonna be, you'd rather take up chastity. seriously.

"yn! wait why are you walking away- YN, c'mere. this is so fun," seokmin calls out to you again, this time louder, and the people nearby follow his gaze to see a shy you, face the colour of a ripe tomato. you could only wish that the ground would swallow you up.

and if all this wasn't enough, your boyfriend decides to laugh in an obnoxious manner, a distinct 'ho ho ho' echoing through the mall even in the chatter of the crowd.

that's when the mall starts playing one of your favourite songs, a song he'd start singing whenever, wherever you were. when you turn around to look at him, you see him already watching you, eyes searching yours for the silent message that comes with the song.

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you?

you walk over to him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before taking his extended hand to pull him away from the crowd. you return the beard to the santa with an awkwardness you're sure he understands as well, and return to seokmin, who's now decided to entertain a few kids who'd thought he was santa indeed, and the sight melts away any urgency you'd felt. it replaces with a warm and cosy feeling that slowly settles in your tummy.

"the kids loved me; i make a pretty good santa, don't i?" he asks when he sees you near him.

"i don't know about santa, but you'd make a pretty good dad. now let's get home quick now, we have to wrap the gifts."

prompt by @novelbear; dividers by @adornedwithlight

[lostbookmark]

🔞

Main Masterlist here

Finding Masterlist here

Summary: After a failed engagement you move back home and reconnect with your friends. Maybe, just maybe you can find love with someone you never expected.

Pairing: Yoongi x F. Reader

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Swearing, Cheating (Not Yoongi), Fighting, Unprotected Sex, Protected Sex,  Toxic Past Relationship, Stealing Prescription Drugs, Selling Drugs,

Genre: Enemies(?) to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers, Small Town romance. Hurt-Comfort, Slight Angst, Romance

A/N: I'll probably skip updating next week, but I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas and a happy New Years! (If you celebrate) If not, I hope you have an amazing day, and I'll see you all in two weeks!

“Strawberry shortcake,” Mrs. Lee tells you as you bag her purchases in her reusable floral print tote. “That's why I need so many strawberries. My son just loves my strawberry shortcake. Do you remember Hyun, Y/N? I think you went to school together.”

“Umm, yeah, I remember him,” you confirm as you slide her the bag of red morsels, but she seems to ignore the gesture. “He was always really nice.” He wasn't. He was a dick but you couldn't say that to her.

“He's single, now and I heard through the grapevine that you are too. I always thought he had a little crush on you,” she informs you, and you sigh internally. “I can give you his number, but he has to be home by eight o'clock. He could use a good girl like you to keep him on track.”

“On track? He has a curfew?” You ask warily, nudging her strawberries closer to her with the tip of your finger, but she still chooses to ignore them. “At our age?”

“Well he's on parole…” she starts with a small shrug of her shoulders as if that wasn't a big deal. 

“I'm sorry….what? You realize I'm a teacher, right? I can't date criminals,” you tell her and then quickly shut your mouth at the hard glare she sends you. It made you even take a step back away from the white plastic table between the two of you, afraid that she might jump over the barrier at you. Her glare was murderous.

“He's not a criminal, Y/N! He just made an honest mistake. I didn't think you would be so judgemental, but knowing your mother, I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. You are just as stuck up as she is. ” Mrs. Lee snatches her fruit from the table and stomps away. 

“Holy cow,” Tae says with a stunned expression, watching as the mad woman hurries off to her next destination. “You really made her mad.”

“I'm taking a break,” you tell him, and he nods his head in response. 

Walking around the table, you round the corner to go behind the tent. You see Hobi and Yoongi standing over some light colored wooden crates filled with vegetables as they hold clipboards in their hands. You approach them and throw your hands in the air. 

“This is the last time I'm coming here,” you announce dramatically. “Never again. Nothing good ever happens when I come here. Somehow, I always end up being embarrassed in front of the whole town.”

“This is only your second time coming here,” Yoongi says, not looking away from his paperwork.

“What happened?” Hobi asks, completely turning to you giving into your antics like the good friend he is.

“Why is Hyun on parole?” You answer with your own question. "What could he have possibly done here?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Hobi said knowingly, placing his hands on his hips. “He got caught stealing from the pharmacy when he worked there as a technician.”

“He tried selling to some high school kid who ratted him out to the police,” Yoongi adds, finally glancing at you with an amused expression. “Arrested him right here in the middle of town. I unfortunately missed it, but I heard it was funny. Supposedly, he was crying for his mom the whole time.”

“Well, his mother just compared me to my mother, and then proceeded to call me stuck up. Can you believe that? I'm nothing like that woman,” you complain. “Just because I didn't want to go out with her little criminal who had to be home by his curfew.” You watch as the two men share a look and break down laughing. “Not funny.”

“A music teacher and a drug dealer,” Yoongi comments, looking impressed. “You are really racking them up, aren't you?” 

“What music teacher?” Hobi asked, looking between you and Yoongi. “Why won't you go out with him? Why didn't I know about this?”

“Because I hate men right now, and I don’t want you to encourage me to go out, ” you tell him. “Also, the last thing I want to do is date a coworker. If it were to go bad, I would still have to see him almost every day.”

“Well, darlin, I hate to break it to you, but your options are pretty limited if you truly are staying in our little town,” Yoongi says. “You probably can't afford to be too picky at this point. Soon, the only men available to you will be at the senior center. I hope you like mashed peas.” 

“Well, what about you?” You ask him, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You were about to lose your patience with this conversation. “I certainly haven't seen anyone at your place. What's your excuse?”

It's true. In the one short week that you have been in your new home, you have picked up on Yoongi's habits pretty easily. His routine was the same every day, never changing, always predictable. His garage door rattles loudly, always waking you up at 4:30 in the morning with his headlights shining into your room not long after. He also doesn't seem to come home until well after sunset. By then, you have settled in front of your tv with your dinner when you see him pull into his garage through your living room window. The only visitors that you have seen over there so far were your mutual friends that come and go whenever they please. 

However, you have yet to see a woman show up or come home with him, nor has anyone mentioned Yoongi seeing someone. Your comment makes him smirk at you as he places his hands on his hips. Clearly, he is amused. The smug look on his face makes you rethink everything. Maybe you were wrong, and he does have somebody. The traitorous butterflies in your stomach fall a little bit at the thought. 

“Keeping tabs on me?” he asks, raising his eyebrow at you. The open mouth smirk he gives you makes your most intimate part clench. She's a traitor, too. 

“You wish,” you roll your eyes at him, trying to cover up your embarrassment and arousal. “Your loud ass garage always announces your presence. Why do you have to leave at 4:30 every freaking morning?”  Yoongi opens his mouth to probably spit some nonsense at you, but you don't let him. “It doesn't matter. I'm going home to wallow in my misery since the two of you made me feel bad.”

“Don't go,” Hobi says, as Yoongi waves goodbye to you. 

“Men!” You exclaim and turn on your heel. You think you need to find new friends.  

Kneeling in the green grass of your backyard with your earbuds in your ears, you needed to keep yourself occupied.  After storing out of the farmers market, you decided to go home and busy yourself trying out a craft before school on Monday to see just how messy it was. Oobleck, the fun little cornstarch and water concoction was quite fascinating. You can understand why kids love this shit so much. You had several large bowls ready to go so you could mix different colors and dispense them into 18 small containers. One for each child.  You wanted your kiddos to get outside and play before the upcoming unpredictable fall weather rolled in.  The weather would soon turn cooler, rainier forcing them to be inside more, and you didn't want to rist this craft in the classroom.  You carefully measure the cornstarch and dump it into the first bowl. As you grab your pitcher of water, a shadow looms over you, scaring the hell out of you.  You whip around, making your earbuds fall out of your ears and consequently dumping water all over yourself with your sudden movement. 

“AHH, that's cold,” you squeal, jumping up off the ground and glaring at the man that surprised you. 

“I didn't mean to scare you,” Yoongi said, holding his hands up in surrender. He eyed the wetness of your clothes that were now clinging onto your body. You think you saw him quickly wet his lips before averting his eyes quickly. 

“What do you want?” You asked, and immediately you cringe at the tone of your voice. You look at him regretfully, softening your tone before bending down and picking up your fallen earbuds.  “Did you need something?”

“Hobi and I thought you were joking about leaving, but when we went to the front, you were already gone. He was really worried when we couldn't find you. I was forced to do three laps around the damn place to look for you,” he explains and holds out a decent sized brown paper bag for you to take.“I brought you some apples that we had left over. I shouldn't have teased you like that.”

“No, it's okay. Thank you,” you tell him, taking the bag of apples from him carefully. It was a lot heavier than it looked. You put it down by your feet and kneel back down to your project. “I need to stop being sensitive when it comes to the topic of dating. I'll have to move on eventually or adopt eight cats and live alone for the rest of my life.”

“You're too young to think like that,” he tells you as he towers over your kneeling form as he moves closer, and you try to avoid looking up at him. You could only imagine how that would look. 

“Yeah, but the eight cats sound like the better option. I can name them all after sweet snacks. Cupcake, sprinkles, marmalade, he would be orange, …” you say, drifting off with a shrug as you grab your second water pitcher that was thankfully full.

“What are you doing?” He asks, coming to squat down next to you and effectively changing the subject. His swift movement let you catch the scent of his cologne that filled the air around you. Of course, he smelled good.

“Oobleck,” you answer, shaking your head, trying to rid yourself of those thoughts. “For the kids at school. It will be great for their fine motor skills, straightening their hand muscles, and dexterity. That was a really boring answer, wasn't it?” 

“Joon says you're a great teacher,” Yoongi says, and it makes you smile. 

“I should hope so,” you comment. “If I wasn't, he probably shouldn't have hired me.”

“Need help?” He asks, looking at the empty bowls. 

“You don't have anything better to do?” You ask, looking at him skeptically. “It’s Saturday. No hot date tonight at the senior center to get ready for?” 

“Very funny. I'm here, aren't I?” He answers and pulls a couple of bowls close to him. 

“Did you just call me your hot date?” You question, teasing him, and you swear you see his face turn a light shade of pink. He must have been out in the sun for too long.  

“Shut up. Now you are the one who is wishing,” he says, watching you carefully measure your ingredients.  “2 to 1 ratio?” 

“Yup,” you answer as you mix the dry and wet ingredients together. “That's a lot of apples to just give me. I can pay you for them.”

“Well, we felt really bad,” he says with a shrug and a shake of his head. Dropping down, he finally sits down next to you. His knee brushes your outer thigh, and it makes your heart pick up just a little.  “Hobi said that you could probably bake up some stuff with them. From what I hear, you are a good baker. The guys won't shut up about it.”

“Well, maybe now that we are friends….you might find out,” you tell him, focusing on dropping some food coloring in your concoction. The red swirls around and blends together with the white of the cornstarch effectively, turning it pink as you stir it with a plastic spoon. 

“Hopefully,” he said softly. 

You look at him out of the corner of your eye and watch him diligently work. It's a nice, comfortable silence that falls between the two of you. You watch as he bites his lower lip in concentration, and it does something to you again. Much like that night, he was playing darts at that dark bar all those years ago. You're not sure what it is, but it certainly makes you feel warm all over. 

Damn it.

Apple pie, it was good, but you didn't want to deal with having to make the crust from scratch. Apple pie bars, that one was intriguing, but you didn't have pecans, and you didn't want to go to the store.  Apple crisp, one of your favorites, but once again, you didn't have any oats. You think you really need to stock your cupboards with food as your finger scrolls through all the apple desserts you can find on Google. Apple cider donut pound cake, now that sounded like too much work. You sigh. You had to use the apples that Yoongi brought you. You personally don't care for apples on their own, preferring them, then baked with a pound of sugar on them. Needing to make them as unhealthy as possible before you could eat them 

Making your way to your kitchen, you open your cupboards and grab the ingredients to your famous bread that you had often made in college. The same bread you never baked for Yoongi. The same bread that your friends munched away at giving you thank yous and hugs in front of said man. You feel like a complete bitch when you think back on the memories.  You purposely left him out. You hate people like that, and you hate yourself for being that person at one time. You could blame your young age at the time, but you knew what you were doing. You thought he hated you, and you wanted him to feel bad.  

It was your grandmother's recipe that you have memorized by heart, but unfortunately, it's been years since you have made it. Changkyun never liked your bread, your cakes, or any food that you had cooked for him. He would often make you order takeout after you spent time and energy cooking for him. He was able to suck the joy out of something that you loved so much that you just gave up on baking.  You had given up on a lot of things. You had given up on yourself and lost who you were.

One thing that made you nervous was that you never added anything to the recipe before. You had always stuck to her white bread. It was simple and easy, always a hit. However, you don't see why you can't cook some apples down, puree them, and throw them into the dough mixture. Will it work? You have no idea, but it won't hurt to try. Grabbing your peeler, you’re ready to go to work.

The red apples were peeled, cut into perfect slices, and currently simmering away on your stove in a large pot. The house was filled with the scent of apples and the little bit of cinnamon that you added for flavor. It smelled divine. It smelled homey. Your kitchen door suddenly opens, and Jimin pokes his head in with a pretty smile on his perfect face. You wave him in as you turn your attention back to your stove. 

“It smells good in here,” he comments as he fully steps into the house, closing the door behind him. “What are you making?”

“I'm attempting apple bread,” you tell him as he peeks over your shoulder at the stove. “Yoongi dropped off a bunch of apples for me. I want to get them used before they go bad.”

“Dropped them off…..like….. for free?” He asks suspiciously. “You didn't have to pay for them?

“Yeeeah,” you say slowly.

“He never gives anything away for free. He makes all of us pay full retail price when we want something,” Jimin explains. “I wonder why he gave them to you for free?”

“I don’t know,” you say, turning away from his raised eyebrow. You focus on checking the tenderness of the apples with the sharp knife in your hand. Not quite ready. “I think that he's just trying to be nice.”

“I'm sure,” he says with a tick of his head. 

“Do you know something I don't?” You ask with an accusing tone, looking back at him over your shoulder.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “How many are you making?”

“Enough for everyone if it turns out,” you answer. “Anyway, what are you doing here?” 

“I was on my way to Yoongi's. Thought I would stop by to say hi. Also, I heard you were collecting boyfriends left and right. The ladies at the grocery store love talking about you.”  Jimin says with a smirk. “It was all they could talk about in the cereal aisle. Which, by the way, is on sale. Two for five dollars.”

“Are you serious?” you ask. 

“Yeah, I got two boxes of Cheerios,” Jimin says with a devious smirk. You roll your eyes at him and shake your head. “Hobi told all of us about your boyfriends. I personally one hundred percent agree with you, by the way. You don’t need to date right now, but that doesn't mean you can't sleep around and have your own fun.” He tells you. “You know just…keep it safe.” 

“Goodbye Jimin,” you say, walking over and opening the kitchen door for him. 

“Fine, fine,” he says, walking out of the house after taking your not so subtle hint for him to leave. You see Yoongi walk out of his house with a bag of garbage clutched in his hand. Jimin makes his way across the driveway and up Yoongi's steps. When he reaches the landing, he turns to look at you with a shit eating grin. “You can always get a Tinder account. I'll take the pictures, wear a low-cut top and a push-up bra. Boob pictures will get more right swipes.”

Yoongi looks between the two of you before you raise your middle finger in goodbye. Jimins laughter is the last thing you hear before you shut and lock your door. Going back to your stove, you check the simmering apples once more as you stab them harshly with the same knife as before. The sharp point pierced the fruit easily. They were ready to mash. Oh boy, mash them you did. Maybe a little too hard, leaving sticky apple splatter everywhere. You will regret it later when you have to clean the residue, but right now, it feels nice to get some aggression out. You felt a small sense of satisfaction as you watched them get flattened, exploding everywhere. It was almost therapeutic. You'll have to do this more often. 

After an hour in the oven, the warm bread was perfect. It was soft and chewy on the inside with a slight crispy crust around the golden edges. You are surprised that it actually turned out. You thought for sure that the puree was going to make the dough too wet, but it was perfectly sweet with a hint of cinnamon. Pleasantly, surprised and proud of yourself, you wrapped seven loaves of bread in clear plastic wrap for your friends. Biting your lip, your eyes sneak a peek over at Yoongi's house and see that Jimin's car is gone from the driveway. Grabbing one loaf of bread, you leave your house and head over to Yoongi's to deliver the freshly baked goodness. 

You look out past your backyard to the fields on your short trek over to his house. The sunset was beautiful this time of the year as summer was drawing to an end, making way for the fall season. The trees were slowly starting to change colors, indicating that the cooler season was indeed just around the corner. Some trees are even starting to lose their leaves when the breeze hits the branches just right. Causing them to flutter slowly to the ground. Ascending his stairs, you gave a quick knock to his screen door. You slowly rock back and forth on your feet as you wait for him. It didn't take long before he opened the door with a look of surprise.

“Hi,” he said in his signature gravelly voice. 

“Hi,” you say back with a slight smile. “I used the apples that you gave me. I made this bread for everyone.” You reach out and hand him the baked bread. He takes it from you and examines it with a questionable stare.  “I didn't poison it.”

“What?” he asks, and you feel stupid that you made that joke. “No..I….I'm surprised that you actually made me one, I guess.” 

“Well, I did. I told you I would,” you say, and you glance back at sunset, trying to avoid the awkwardness of the conversation. The beautiful colors are not helping you at all.  “I guess I should go. I have a sticky mess to clean up. Have a good night, Yoongi.”

“Thanks, you too,” he says. You make your way back across the drive, but his voice stops you when you reach the middle. “You shouldn't use Tinder.”

“What?” You laugh as you turn back to look at him. 

“It's dangerous,” he says with a nod. “You shouldn't use it. You never know who is really on the other end of a profile.” 

“Okay, yeah,” you say, still amused. “I will be sure to keep that in mind. Goodnight.” 

This time, he doesn't say anything back. You smile to yourself as you enter back into your house. This new friendship feels nice. It doesn't feel forced like you thought it would. Once you get past the awkwardness, you’re sure it will feel completely normal. It will almost feel like you have been friends with him all along. Like you can forget the past. For the first time since your truce, you are ready to accept that. 

Tagged Readers:

@mar-lo-pap, @bontensbabygirl , @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs , @redragdoll, @svnbangtansworld , @wobblewobble822

[farewellstarstuff]

Days before Christmas | flochjean (friends, just friends)

kinda modern au

wc: 1,3k

summary: Jean and Floch, as two people who can't stand each other, search of a Christmas tree (a bit of humor, fluff, frank conversations and jeanmarco as a mention)

"This one is too small"

"And this one is too huge"

"Mangy"

"Scary"

"Looks like you"

"Why is it?"

"The same red and small," Jean bursts into laughter, to which Floch rolls his eyes, pointedly turning away.

For the last few hours, they had been choosing a Christmas tree together. But Mikasa, who sent them together, did not think what a scandal this little request could turn into. Floch looked at everything from a completely different side than Jean. They couldn't agree on the taste of yogurt, let alone something as important as a Christmas tree.

The situation was also worsened by the fact that there were only a few days left before the holiday and all the good trees had long been dismantled. There were only the little ones, the giants, and this one, because of which Jean could not stop laughing for several minutes.

Floch was not enthusiastic about the idea of shopping together; he and Jean did not quite get along. At first, Floch himself was to blame for this and his desire to join Eren's company. He had been the center of his small on before, but he wanted more. He wanted to be in the co of a cool guy from the course, hang out with him, and not look enviously at his social media profile.

Who knew that Jean had been in the company all time, who treated new faces with either jealousy or contempt. They quarreled over everything: over projects, over the desire to be in the center, over the compliments that Jean paid to Mikasa, and Floch turned each of them into a joke. The last, biggest argument, because of which Mikasa sent them together, was an argument about who would be liable for the purchase of the Christmas tree.

The argument almost came to a fight, but Ackerman intervened just in time. She shoved the jacket into everyone's hands and sent them to look for the tree together.

So, she said, it would definitely be useful. Floch chuckled inwardly. This girl's naive hope that they would reconcile was really hilarious.

"Let's try another store, I found it," Floch handed Jean a phone with an open card, and he finally became serious.

"Come on," he drawled lazily, buttoning his coat.

The winter in Paradise has been extremely snowy this year. The snowdrifts reached human height in some places, which Jean continued to tease about. Unlike Forster, he towered over the snow, while Floch saw only white walls around.

It wasn't long to get to the next store, but even in those miserable five minutes, Jean managed to piss off Floch before an unexpected snow battle. Floch did not win it, of course. On the contrary, he spat snow the rest of the way and shook it out of his jacket.

"If we don't find a normal one, then we'll go back and choose from those," Floch muttered, sniffing his way through the crowd.

"For the first and I hope the last time, I agree with you," Jean grinned, clinging to the sleeve of Floch's bright uniform jacket so as not to get lost.

A sigh of joy escaped the lips of both when they finally reached the department with Christmas trees. There were a lot more of them here. One single, medium, fluffy and the brightest of all caught the attention of both.

"Here it is," Jean whispered, holding out his hands to where Floch was staring.

The three of them went out into the street: Floch, Jean and the tree on Jean's shoulder. The return trip was surprisingly not spent in silence, as it had been all the time before. Whether it was relief or they were just getting used to each other, the dialogue was surprisingly calm. There were not even any jokes.

Jean was telling how they celebrated Christmas last year at Marco's house. Numerous Bott’s siblings were doing stupid things, and he and Marco constantly had to keep an eye on them. But with all this, Jean missed those moments, especially Christmas itself. They spent it just the two of them, watching movies all day, playing snowballs in the evening, and after that they had a delicious dinner. And lights, gifts, bright packaging, happy smiles, amount of presents. Jean was dreaming and only on the way to the building noticed how sad Floch was.

"Why are you celebrating here this year?" Forster suddenly asked, looking up from his shoes. Jean felt his breath catch in his throat. There was nothing but sadness in his eyes.

"Marco has some problems in his family, they only asked him to come," Jean shrugged, lowering the tree to the ground. When he successfully leaned it against the wall, he finally felt how much it had been pressing on his shoulders.

Floch twitched the corners of his mouth, but instead of a supportive smile, it turned out to be some foolishness. Jean sighed.

"Are you all right?" Jean suddenly asked, which made Floch look down again and blush noticeably.

"This is my second year celebrating here. That year, everyone left, and those who stayed did not communicate with me. Not Christmas, but a holiday of loneliness. And this year I kind of got into the company I dreamed of, and here you are. I'm not blind, and I'm certainly not stupid – I can see that you're uncomfortable in my company. I thought at least this Christmas would be good. But, apparently, I'm interfering with the holiday."

Floch kicked the snow that had not yet been removed and hurried to hide his face in a wide scarf. He did not want Jean and his occasionally kind heart to begin their stormy activity now.

No consolations, no promises. Floch didn't want any of this. He didn't even want to say that, his tongue loosened by itself.

Jean was silent. He had never thought that Floch was actually so lonely. Honestly, there wasn't a moment to think about it. There was always a lot of life around Jean: there was Marco, there were quarrels with Eren, there was a secret crush on Mikasa, there were long conversations with Armin and many, many more things. But he never wondered what the others had. That was the same pain in the ass, the annoying Floch, who clung to their company a couple of months ago. Even Eren was not happy with Floch, but allowed him to stay.

Perhaps he was also hooked by someone else's unspoken pain.

"Look, I shouldn't have said that," Floch nervously pinched the bridge of his nose and continued without turning around. "I shouldn't have said all that, I'm sorry. These are just my problems, you don't need to think about them."

"You’re so dumb," Jean sighed heavily, coming closer. Floch wanted to jerk to the side, but with one movement, Jean trapped him in his huge hands.

The hug turned out surprisingly strong. Jean did not expect this from himself, but there was nowhere else to go. He felt Floch freeze, his hands still in his jacket pockets. He doesn't even seem to have changed in his face. A moment passed and Floch finally gave up. He raised his hands and patted Jean weakly on his back.

To hide the sudden tears he squeezed his eyes shut. Crying on the shoulder of yesterday's not a friend, but an enemy was impossible. It was a weakness. But Jean still felt the strangled sobs.

And he just squeezed his hands tighter.

Mikasa, who was watching them from the second-floor window, smiled faintly. Next to her, Armin patted her shoulder approvingly. The plan, which had seemed dubious to him from the very beginning, surprisingly worked. And it was good.

(author: I congratulate myself on the first plus or minus full-fledged, slightly silly and open in the final text, I think about a series of Christmas little stories about the aot guys, soooo will see)

[neallo]

In the end, Mello finds that there is just not a single fucking suitable gift for Near. He spends hours reading forum threads about the best Transformers merchandise from each generation, scrolls page after page of eBay listings for vintage figurines of Optimus Prime— he even steals Roger’s identity and applies for a credit card in preparation of the purchase, but in the end, none of it is what he was looking for. The mind-blowing, life-changing present he dreamed of doesn’t exist.

This is why he has to make it himself.

When he realizes that is his answer, it’s like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. Of course he wouldn’t be able to buy something for Near. Near is exceptional. Outstanding. Regardless of the manufacturing quality, visual design accuracy, and relative rarity, a mass-produced toy would never have been satisfactory. In fact, Mello is the only person in the world equipped to create something worthy of Near’s shining, golden mind. 

He nabs some of Matt’s energy drinks and stays up all night researching, planning. He then spends a week making the game board, gathering dice and pieces, writing out the rules. When everything is said and done, he sits Matt down and explains the whole thing to him.

“It’s really good, right?” Mello says after he finishes his spiel. 

Matt looks vaguely dizzy. “I don’t think I get it.”

Mello grins. This is the last confirmation he needed— no one but Near will be able to appreciate it, which means it’s perfect. Case closed.

—

In the end, Near is one of the first students called to present his gift. He stands, shuffles over to Mello, and presents him with the box of assorted gifts.

The look on Mello’s face when Near reaches him is one of faint shock; the expression he wears as he unpacks the items is one of faint despair.

“This is nice paper,” he says out loud, thumbing through the notebook. They are meant to keep these exchanges brief, but Mello seems intent on evaluating every item in the box. He sounds somehow both pleased and distressed.

“It is very thick and smooth,” Near says quietly.

“The pen is heavy,” Mello then comments.

The students around them murmur impatiently. Near barely hears them.

“It’s meant to last a lifetime.” Near tugs at a piece of hair at his temple. “The ink is refillable, and the nib is replaceable. With the right paper, it will create a superior writing experience.”

“Cool,” Mello says— quite sincerely, now, Near thinks. “Where did you get the scarf?”

“I made it.”

Mello looks up from the floor, lips parting. “By hand?”

Near nods.

After taking out and trying on the earmuffs, Mello finally pulls the container of chocolate truffles from the bottom of the package. Louise, a member of the kitchen staff who favors Near, guided him through the process of making them. They were far too bitter for his taste, but Mello likes his chocolate that way. He opens the container, plucks a confection from the tray, and pops it into his mouth.

hmm what if wammys secret Santa and mello and near got assigned to each other

HI thank you for this prompt, i love it ^_^ gently placing your fill below (~500 words) i may write the scene where they exchange their gifts, too, in which case i'll update this (& probably upload to AO3 <3)

When Mello receives his assignment for secret Santa, he sees it for what it is: an act of sabotage.

“Think about it, Matt,” he mutters to his best friend, pacing the length of the room they share. “Roger hates me. He knows I hate Near. He’s trying to set me up, right, because he thinks I’ll get Near something shitty, and then he’ll be able to give me extra chores or something for bullying him.”

“You pulled Near’s name from the hat,” Matt points out. “I’m not sure how Roger would’ve rigged that to happen.”

Mello waves his hand dismissively. “I can think of, like, a hundred ways to do it. It’s not that hard.” A pause. “Anyway, like I was saying, he thinks I’m gonna fall for it. He thinks I’m such a stupid piece of shit that I’ll just walk right into his trap, but that’s where he’s wrong.”

“What are you going to do?” Matt asks nervously.

“I,” Mello says, “am going to get Near a present that’s so good, and so thoughtful, that it completely blows his fucking mind. It’s going to be so good it changes his life. And then— and then, this is the best part, because Near’s just gonna get something small and dumb for whoever he has, and he’s gonna look like an idiot having to follow my gift.”

Matt says something in response to this, but Mello isn’t listening. His eyes are already on the prize— and he has work to do.

—

When Near receives his assignment for secret Santa, he counts himself lucky. He’s pleased, but apprehensive. Selecting and obtaining a gift Mello will enjoy may help him convey the depth of his care for the other boy, but it is not an easy task, and he is working under a short deadline. Christmas is in only ten days.

He takes to his duty with all the dedication he typically devotes to his studies. With the semester over, he has the time and energy to scrutinize what he knows about Mello, and to translate that information into a choice of gift. In the end, Near concludes that no one present will be satisfactory. Mello’s interests are diverse, and so must be Near’s offerings.

The days tick by, and Near crosses items off his list. He obtains an expensive notebook with buttery paper from a shop in town, and a beautiful fountain pen. He purchases several skeins of soft yarn and teaches himself to knit, producing a satisfactory scarf and something that almost looks like a hat. He throws the “hat” under his bed and obtains a pair of earmuffs to replace it.

This last purchase almost exhausts Near’s allowance stockpile. He frowns over the money he has left. It is not quite enough to pay for the box of chocolates he originally had his eye on, and he is not skilled enough to make confection from scratch. 

His intention was to work alone, but these are desperate times.

[botanicallyinclinednerd]

If I DO end up doing a rewatch of Torchwood it will be a fun game of "how much of what I consider to be canon has just purely been from reading fanfic these past 7 years, some of the audio dramas and audio books, and the same 4 episodes every time I rehyperfixate?"

[inkskinned]

you're in the habit of denying yourself things.

if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.

but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?

what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.

and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.

you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.

so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.

it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.

sometimes it is tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.

oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.

[b4kuch1n]

Hello! Honoring the call for a global strike, from now (24/01/2024) until the end of this week (6AM Monday 29/01/2024, Hanoi/Jakarta time (GMT+7)) I am offering one full-body sketch of any character you want for every e-sim you donate.

All you need to do is:

go to gazaesims.com

follow the instruction there and donate an e-sim of any plan

screenshot the confirmation of your purchase and donation

send the screenshots to me via either email (b4kuch1n@gmail.com) or Tumblr DM, along with the character you want a sketch of and any references you have on hand.

Standard commission/request guideline applied. I'll run streams in the next four days (and perhaps after as well) on Youtube doing these sketches live - those will be announced on this blog as they happen.

I'm not currently affiliated with the Cartoonist Cooperative or any other artists doing the same drive, but if my art's not what you're looking for, definitely give the Coop's site as well as the e-sim tag on Tumblr a look! And if you're not looking for sketch commissions from me or art commission in general at the moment, I encourage you to donate an e-sim anyway if possible.

Thank you for your work and support - I can't wait to draw your character!

[valentinsocorro]

"Ha," he huffed, joining Alasdair and rising to stand. He surveyed him for a moment, looking slightly amused, "It'd be interesting to see you try to best me. I enjoy a good spar. Unless that's on your list of birthday wishes, let us not think of violence, hm?"

Valentin was an accomplished warrior. He'd fought in countless wars, hundreds and hundreds of battles. He felt like he was born fighting and he'd die fighting. His intention with Dair, however, was not to harm. He truly just wanted to treat the slave to an enjoyable birthday. So unless the slave wanted to test his mettle, Valentin would remain gentle around him.

"Let us go to the high street in town and purchase an outfit befitting the occasion. I'll let you choose. I don't have a head for fashion or the patience to choose clothes for another. Vamos." The councilman led the way out of the Undercroft, following all proper protocol for renting Alasdair for the evening. He walked close to him as they made their way out of the castle. It would be a drive to Krovs Town and Valentin brought Dair to where his motorcycle was kept. He offered the slave a helmet.

"Safety first, si?"

It was true that Alasdair hadn't had the best time since arriving at the castle, often finding himself in situations he really, really didn't want to be in, but he looked after himself. Anything traumatic just ended up being pushed to the back of his mind. He spent a moment or two thinking about Valentin's words, not taking his emerald gaze off the other's face as he considered his options.

"Y'know what, you make a compellin' argument. Any funny business and I'll bite your dick off, don't test me," Dair warned, arching an eyebrow at the councilman. "But fine, let's get out of here for a bit. It'll be nice not to stare at stone walls for the rest of the day," he admitted as he got to his feet, still not entirely certain he was happy with his decision, but he would see how things went. "Where we going first?"

[takamoris]

Knocking out a quick Lilith Greedier Mode run on the SteamDeck during lunch. It's that easy.

[meownotgood]

the akis that came today 🫡 the akis are plentiful.

[dreadfutures]

guess who is having hot girl bowel issues

[britneyshakespeare]

well in more positive news

midge is now the proud wearer or friday night date (1960-1964)

[shiningneedlecastle]

So like. Maybe it's an ironic joking thing, but sometimes the tags on your posts/reblogs make me feel concerned, so like. Are you doing ok? Do you wanna talk about it?

yeah it's not really ironic joking, not gonna lie i'm doing quite badly irl what with how badly the american education system is structured (especially medical education and how particularly hellish it can get). i don't wanna burden you with the sheer weight of all this horrible shit and i don't spend much time on here anymore. but thank you for the offer though, sincerely