#there really is a small chance you will understand this if you're not polish

[honeymilkbubbletea]

Wywar z czego??? 😨

This one's for my polish arcane fans 🔥

[ellieslittlewh0re]

━ 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍 ୨⎯ 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧! 𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⎯୧

𖧷

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝟣 - 𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝟤 - 𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝟥

⟢ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗎𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗈, 𝗅𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗇𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗒/𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗓𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝗇.

⟢ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗉! (𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 mid-𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝟥𝟢𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝟣𝟫-𝟤𝟤 𝗂𝗌𝗁) 𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗏𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖽 & 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝖽, 𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 (𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒) 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍

𝙖/𝙣 - 𝗂 𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝟤-𝟥 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄

It was a slim chance, almost next to none that you out of all people would get the job. It's not like you have any experience with taking care of kids, maintaining a house, and especially of this scale. But here you were, standing in front of your new home, at least for next however long you can keep your new boss satisfied.

The driveway itself felt like it was straight out of a movie- luxury cars, perfectly polished laid stone, lined with landscaping around the edges that looked almost fake from a distance, not a singular blade of grass being out of line.

As you take in the surroundings, slowly making your way up the (what feels like) mile long driveway, a man is closing the front door behind him.

"Hello!" He calls out, waving his hand in your direction to come over.

He extends his arm as you approach him, offering a gentle handshake, and introduces himself as Owen.

He looked slightly out of place, not as much as you did, but still noticeable.

You laughed nervously, still unsure who "Owen" is supposed to be.

"Are you the one who I emailed about the job?" You asked, clenching your fingers nervously around the handle of your suitcase.

He placed his hands on his hips, looking a little off-guard before seemingly understanding,

"No, no, sorry, that would be my wife- ex wife." He corrected himself, giving you a tight lipped smile that felt more like a soothing self-pity tick.

You nodded, and looked around, unsure of what to say next.

"Sorry-" He laughed again, "I'm just stopping by to drop our son off. She's inside."

"Ah" You mouthed, and thanked the man. He walked past you, past the Bentley, and approached the driver side of the less expressive looking car in the driveway before turning around and shouting a "good luck".

What you do know- 1. Your boss is a woman, 2. She's divorced (seemingly), and 3. She's seriously fucking loaded.

What the man meant by "good luck" you can only assume. Maybe she's a bitch, or maybe, he's just bitter about whatever their history is, but you don't even have time to think of the possibilities because the front door is opening once again.

"You're late."

She stood in front of the wooden, 8, maybe 9 foot tall door, not even bothering to look at you as she fiddled with the cufflinks on her perfectly tailored, white button down.

"I'm so sorry, I had a uber cancel-"

She sighed, very clearly unimpressed by your excuse.

"Bedtime is at 7, and there's food in the fridge-"

She turned, walking inside, and you had to pick up your pace to keep up with her longer strides as she briefly escorted you through the foyer, and into the kitchen, "There's emergency contacts here in case of an emergency." She sighed deeply, from annoyance or exhaustion you couldn't tell, pointing to a small notebook island.

You rocked on your heels, nodding at her every word because, honestly, you were scared and weren't sure if you could trust your voice at this point.

"Alright." She exhaled, not really directed at you, and picked up a coat that was hanging on the back of a bar stool, draping it over her arm, "Oh, one more thing-" She leaned forward, and placed a hand on your shoulder, violating your senses with her cologne, "-don't give him any sugar after 4, he'll keep you up all night."

You looked up, and finally, she sees you, her blue eyes etching themselves into yours.

"Yes, ma'am."

And Abby wasn't sure if it made her feel better or worse when she did this. Sure, you seemed responsible enough- shy and respectful, but shit, you were pretty.

She backed away and cleared her throat, turning her back towards you as she made her way towards the direction of the front door, the heels of her chairman shoes echoing against the hardwood floors.

-

The house was eerily quiet when there wasn't a 4-year-old running around and filling its vastness with his laughs and clanking of toys, not that you minded though, you were exhausted.

You sat in what looked to be the "family room", given the chest of toys, and large mounted t.v. with leather couches that felt too firm, almost like they had never been sat in by someone who weighed over 40 pounds, still, it served it purpose in giving you the place to readjust.

What you do know- 1. She works late, 2. Her son's name is Carter, and 3. She's scarily attractive.

Wait-

She's attractive? No- you can't think that. She's your BOSS, and she has a ex-husband, so, she's most likely straight, right?

You got up, pacing around the house, and looked around to make sure everything was where it should be in hopes it kept your head occupied.

You re- read through the notes she had left behind in the note pad, what the security code was, where your room was etc... but, even then, you still found yourself examining her handwriting, which also found a way to look expressive.

And then you thought about how she dressed- clean and sharp, the muscles in her back flexing as she walked away, and how tightly her shirt hugged her arms-

Your head darts towards the archway that just barely kept the front door out of sight, the faint beeping of the security code being dialed in freezing you.

The door opened and closed, the wall still shielding the company, and you anxiously fixed yourself- pushing strands of hair behind your ears and smoothing out the wrinkles on your pleated skirt.

Abby rounded the corner, looking down while unbuttoning the first three buttons of her shirt before looking up.

She looked shocked to see you standing there, and evidently waiting for her to get home.

She remembered telling which room was yours in the notes, right?

"Jesus it's-" She looked down at the watch on her wrist, "- It's almost 11. What are you still doing awake?" She sounded almost annoyed like she was looking forward to the peace and quiet that you now ruined, but she wasn't annoyed per se.

See, it's been a while since she has been this attracted to someone, and after being married for 12 years and losing all the skills that comes with flirting, she wasn't sure how to handle it.

"Couldn't sleep." You lied, knowing you didn't even try to go to bed, but she doesn't need to stress herself out with you when she has her own stuff to deal with.

Abby sat at the kitchen island, pushing her sleeves up to her elbows, and you can't help but notice the new skin- the thickness of her forearms and how the muscles curved along the side.

She looked exhausted- still polished, but the front stands of her hair were now loose from her slicked-back hairstyle, gently dancing over her cheeks when she moved her head.

Suddenly, you felt like a burden and didn't want to piss her off more than you thought you already had. So, you excused yourself and started to walk past her towards the hall, but she stuttered something, something that you didn't quite catch.

"Hm?" You turned around, eyes wide and eager to hear what she had to say.

It's been awhile since anyone cared that much to listen to her, she thought.

"Care for a drink?" As soon as the question left Abby's lips, she felt a little embarrassed- hell, she wasn't even sure if you were old enough to drink, not that she cares if a person under the age of 21 drinks alcohol, but she does care if the question came off... weird.

Maybe it was weird.

By the look on Abby's face, it's like you had already declined her offer- defeated and a little bit of a bruised ego, ready to remove herself from the conversation all together, and never speak of it again.

"Sure." You agreed, smiling at her, and she returned the smile, her face lighting up like she hadn't sat down with someone for a drink in a long time, which is no surprise to anyone when you're a mom and have a long, demanding work schedule.

She got up, walking across the kitchen to an intricately detailed wooden cabinet, "What do you want?"

She started to list all the different names of liquor, some sounding foreign to you as you sat down in the barstool that was next the one she was occupying previously, swiveling it back and forth with your feet, "I'll have what you're having." You say sweetly, not wanting her to go through the extra effort of pouring something different.

She chuckled, looking at you over her shoulder before dropping her head, shaking it back and forth.

She pulled a bottle from the middle shelf, setting it on the counter along with two short glasses.

She poured the dark caramel liquid, filling the glass by only an inch or two, and slid it across the island, "Ladies first." She motioned her hand, waiting for you to taste it.

You brought the crystal to your lips, your cheeks hot from the undivided attention she was giving you, but you brushed it off and tilted the glass back.

The liquor burned your throat, every part of you wanting to spit it out, but you swallow anyway.

"It's good." You lied, and not very convincingly, which humored Abby, chuckling at your reaction before pouring her own drink, filling it more than what she had done for yours.

She cornered the counter, joining you in the bar seats, "You get used to it."

You were too shy to look at her face in case her eyes met yours, but you had no issue with looking at her hands- how big they were, almost making the glass disappear in her grip, the veins running across the top of them that trailed your eyes to her fingers- also strong and thick to match the rest of her.

You caught yourself staring too hard- pulling your eyes away and grabbing your glass, taking another painful sip.

Abby was, of course, oblivious to this, thinking you were just trying to appease her.

-

The drinks got forgotten in the conversations you two shared, and now, sitting with her on the couch, talking like you had known her longer than just a day, but you could thank the alcohol for that one.

You weren't necessarily wasted, but it was the kind of drunk where you weren't really paying attention to what Abby was saying or why she was even laughing for that matter... something about her son? Whatever.

You were, however, paying attention to her face, how beautiful she was, and how her hand so effortlessly settled on your bare thigh, and a warmth that pooled into the pit of your stomach following.

When Abby realized she was touching you, she jerked away and cleared her throat, "It's late-" She stood up, half facing away from you so you wouldn't notice that she- a full-grown, mature woman was blushing, and not only that, but she was blushing over her brand-spanking-new employee.

A small disappointed "oh" brushed past your lips before you ultimately agreed.

It's probably for the best to keep this relationship professional, Abby knew this, but fuck, she'd be lying if she denied the fact she thought about you the moments leading up to her falling asleep that night.

⟢ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 @aouiaa @macaroni676 @sheluvslilith

[wolfiesmoon]

The aquamarine umbrella

duke!neuvillette x dutchess!reader

i have been consuming too much manhwa and too much neuvillette brainrot so this farted out my brain in approximately 4 hours (i know)

also it just so happens to be my first time whipping out my poetic writing side so that means it was written in my native language and then translated into eng because english vocab is scary ( T﹏T )

also you won't guess.... genshin debut!!! 😘😘😘😘😘

What happens when fate doesn't favour you? When you have to leave the place you once called home because of things beyond your authority?

You are sent to an unknown land in a decorated carriage and into the arms not of a Lord mysterious to all. Well, he is not a complete stranger to you, but the name 'Neuvillette' is not quite a sufficient description of his personality.

The closer you get to his estate, the more you realise your helplessness. As the daughter of an unfavoured duke in your country, you have been chosen for this unfortunate marriage. When father called you into his office, you did not expect his grim face. Or the news that you were to recieve on that fateful day.

So, fate decided to marry you to the heartless dragon of the waters, Neuvillette. Neuvillette is a bit... mysterious among the upper class. You only hear horrible but unconfirmed stories about him. But if there are so many, there's a good chance that at least one of them is true. He didn't even show up at the wedding ceremony, so you can only imagine his appearance.

Neither fierce anger nor the shedding of tears has solved your situation. It's not fair that you can just be sold around like property if you're a woman. But you also know that the King would have you executed if you opposed him. Maybe that would even be better.

You can just clutch the big, heavy bracelet around your neck, made of beautiful sparkling diamonds, and hope that the sky above you is full of stars for a few more years. That you will feel the satin covers under you when you wake up, that you will see the sunset every night.

These little things that you used to take for granted now threaten you with an eternal goodbye.

You should smile right now. Smile and look out of the beautifully decorated window of your carriage and wave at the people of his estate who wave back cheerfully in your direction.

His people do not look miserable. The houses are beautifully built and the smiles on the children's faces bring tears of happiness to your eyes. At least that can comfort you.

There are also small creatures waving at you which remind you of deer. You have never seen anything like them before in your life. You have only seen dead deer after a successful hunting trip from brother. You have always felt a little sorry for them.

They were probably happy in nature, surrounded by clear water, lush trees and the soothing chirping of birds. And in one moment, it all ends.

Perhaps now you understand how a deer feels.

Before you can think too much about the deer-like girls, the coachman is holding out his hand for you to get out of the carriage.

Fate has brought you in front of his castle. From inside, you can hear the soothing sound of water. How familiar.

With every step, the click of your heels can be heard echoing through the great hall. The maids bow to you, standing in a row. The interior of the castle is beautiful. You feel as if you are a small pebble in a bubbling brook, and everything around you sparkles.

Suddenly you hear your own name echoing around the hall. You look up and see him for the first time.

And oh, what a sight he is.

Eyes that sparkle like polished lapis lazuli jewels. Long white hair that looks like pristine silk. A hardened, blank face that holds no forgiveness. Is this what a dragon is supposed to look like?

You bow to him quickly. If you really don't want to become like a deer, it's better to be polite and obedient. Obedience is something that is implanted in you as a young duchess. It is all you've ever known. Quite unfortunate, is it not?

"Welcome to my estate. You probably know me already, but I politely ask you to refer to me by my surname. Since exactly one month ago, we are husband and wife by law. I hope you had a safe journey here." He greeted you formally. You also realised that he called you by your father's surname. Since you are his wife, you are now a Neuvillette. How odd.

It takes you a few seconds to collect yourself and answer him. "It is nice to be here."

The answer is quite modest, just as is expected from someone like you.

"Please take her to her room. I can't assure you that I'll always be here if concerns arise, but if you have any at all, you may consult me about it. I hope you sleep soundly tonight."

And so he disappeared down the beautiful blue corridor, leaving you with only the maids who, at his command, showed you the way to your chambers.

Your bed chamber is also a beautiful blue colour. He seems to have a liking for the color blue.

The sky is already turning red, dusk is approaching and with it your first night in your new home. Tonight you can see the sunset. The maids leave you alone, and you immediately lean against the window. Even though you can't see them yet, you are already asking the stars to forgive you. That you will never take anything for granted, as long as they shine. Then everything will be all right.

.

"How do you feel? I hope the food is to your tastes." Your husband suddenly speaks. He is sitting across the large dining table, but dishes are only placed on your side.

"Everything is fine." You hesitate for a few seconds, wondering if you should bring up your concern. "...B-But, why aren't you eating anything?" you quickly grab a decorated glass and take a big sip of water to fill the awkwardness.

"Human food mostly doesn't interest me, unless it has a large percentage of water. Simple water is more suited to my tastes." His answer is simple, but it doesn't surprise you. He is the hydro dragon, after all. Although you keep forgetting that, because he looks about the same as a human.

"Ah, so... Can.... can you tell me a little about yourself?" you hope you don't sound traitorous or as if you suspect him. So far he's been nothing but polite to you. But what do you know... it's always good to be sure.

"You look like you're guilty of something. I know that look well."

Before you have time to answer, he's already talking. Thank God.

"I don't know what exactly about me you're interested in. But I assume you already know some things about me. For purely impersonal reasons, I can already tell you that in all probability we will never know each other well." These words glue your eyes to his. You don't know exactly what it is, but there is an emotion behind them that is unknown to you. One that makes your chest feel tight.

"I am my land's ludex, not just its ruler. The chief of justice, if you will. I create and oversee laws and hold trials for the accused. I do not doubt you, believe me. But it is best if we keep a distance in between us. Impartiality is the primary virtue of a judge." He explained, eyes closed.

You don't know exactly why, but his words make your heart ache. You don't even know him, and he hasn't cruelly rejected you, but as a little girl you always read fairy tales about love, where a boy and a girl love each other for all eternity. No, since when are you so selfish?! Be happy that he doesn't beat you.

A sad reality many noblewomen in arranged marriages face.

"Ah, I see."

The rest of breakfast was spent in a kind of suffocating silence. You didn't know where to look. Perhaps this accident is suited to you, because nothing comes from nothing.

.

"It's raining today." The maid gently reminds you as she puts a necklace around your neck. You've never been particularly happy about rainy days, especially because of mother. She always made you wear brightly coloured dresses and would get yell at you late into the evening if you came inside with mud on the bottom of your dress.

And she didn't like it if you got wet, either. To you, rain is an inconvenience that occurs every now and then. Since you came here, you rarely get to see your husband. But his beautiful long hair reminds you of the white silk covers on your bed, and his blue eyes remind you of the diamond in your ring. That much hasn't changed.

You have a tradition of walking through the town every day and greeting people. Your parents made you stop doing this when you were a little girl, because "it is outrageous for the duchy to talk to the townspeople and peasants."

But now that you are Lady Neuvillette, that is no longer the case. You haven't had a chance to ask Neuvillette if you have permission to do so, but so far he hasn't said anything, so you think he doesn't mind.

You are very glad that he is a good man.

You have also made friends with the deer-like creatures, or rather the Melusines. You met one while on a walk and she seemed delighted to see you. After a while, the Melusines showed you their artwork and their cuisine. You thought it was strange, but you were happy to see your new friend's culture nonetheless.

Sometimes they tell you that they notice you immediately when you go out for a walk.

And today is no different. Even if it's a rainy day, the walk has become important for you, for the Melusines and for the people of his estate. The children who sometimes bring you freshly picked flowers make your heart swell.

The maids hand you an aquamarine umbrella, decorated with lace, in your hands at the entrance. It will do nicely.

You wave to the local children on your walk, say hello to the Melusines you meet on the way, and decide to visit a small waterfall in the area before returning. It's not the sunniest of days, but it's still a day to experience. And long ago, you promised the stars that you would look forward to every day.

But you notice something interesting by the waterfall. The closer and closer you get, the clearer this thing becomes. It's not a thing, it's your husband!

He's standing in the rain without an umbrella with a peaceful expression on his face. It is as if he is relieved of all pain. You are tempted to go to him and at the same time you want to leave him alone. You stand in the rain for a few seconds, but finally hear your heart calling you to him.

He notices you and greets you calmly. You stand next to him and watch the water bounce down the little river that flows under the waterfall.

"I'm sorry I don't come to see you as much as I would like. As my wife, you are my responsibility." As soon as he says it, you start defending him. You know how busy leading a fief can leave you. You've already got used to your new life, so there's really no need for him to worry.

"The Melusines tell me a lot about you."

"Really?!" You knew that the Melusines liked Neuvillette, but you didn't know that they also shared things about you to him.

"Really. Thank you for being so kind to them. Melusines are... important to me." His smile made you a little jealous. It's nothing, he knows Melusines better than you anyways. And the agreement still stands.

"You really like the rain, don't you?" you commented, looking at his peaceful face once again.

"Yes, really. The rain is beautiful." His eyes meet yours, and behind them there is undoubtedly a gleam of joy. And it stirs something new in you. You are not a deer. At least not here.

You don't know why, but suddenly you're holding his hand instead of your aquamarine umbrella and you're getting soaked by the rain.

He looks at you with surprise on his face, as if he never expected this to happen.

"Does it bother you?" you ask him, worried he doesn't like it.

"Not really. Feel free to hold my hand whenever you wish. You are my wife."

A comfortable silence fills the air, with only the sounds of the waterfall and the rain to accompany your thoughts.

What's a young lady to do with her heart if fate decides that she should fall in love with her distant husband?

[imsuperhungry]

change.

"𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙞𝙨𝙩"

packing was bullshit, and if you say you like doing it, you're lying to yourself

he exhaustion sets in fast when you're constantly using all your strength to break down large items like shelves or a lamp just to fit them in a suitcase. And don't even get me started on how tired your arms get after folding clothes for hours, only to realize they won't all fit. Now you're stuck rearranging everything to make more room.

You glance down at the suitcase after cramming everything in, disorganized and messy. One way or another, you were determined to make it all fit. With an irritated sigh, you lift your head to scan the room, only to realize, with a sinking feeling, that you're nowhere near finished—despite having been at it for at least three hours.

.. okay well maybe it's been 30 minutes, but you get the point

You break down in frustration, briefly contemplating if a bullet might be your next piercing. But after taking a deep breath, you decide to flop face down on your bare mattress. You needed a break; you felt like you were losing your mind.

After a stretch of silence, you turn your head and pull out your phone to check the time. It's barely noon, meaning you still have hours before you need to finish packing.

with a small smile, you decide to take a much well-earned nap...

..

Do all airports fucking smell awful, or is that just a Texas thing? Probably the latter. But whatever—at least you managed to get some sleep. After a day of packing, you were drained, so as soon as you sat down, you grabbed your blanket and dozed off in the hard, plastic airport chair.

You likely would have slept longer if not for the hand shaking you awake so roughly. When you open your eyes, your gaze drops to the hand, and you instantly recognize the chipped black nail polish and those pale fingers.

"Come to the bathroom with me real quick; I'm not going alone," she said. Given the dreadful male-to-female ratio here, it made sense. There were fewer than seven girls and at least fifty men. Maybe that explains the awful smell...

"Nicole..." you whine, it would be as soon as you get the chance to sleep, you're forced to get up.

"Come on, you can sleep after, I need to pee." She says as she yanks you up out the chair, making you nearly fall. 

With a grumble, you straighten up and adjust the pink, fluffy blanket you've wrapped around yourself. If you're being dragged up, you're at least going to be warm.

Nicole quickly started practically dragging you through the airport while you were still trying to wake up. Honestly, if she hadn't been pulling you along, you would likely have been bumping into everything, as your eyes felt heavy and your vision was a bit blurred.

After a few seconds, you both finally reach the bathroom. You decide to wait outside the stall where Nicole has gone in, unsure of what else to do. While you wait, you pull out your phone to check the time.

2:09 am...

You decide to stay awake since Nicole is up and likely has plans, meaning she probably won't let you sleep. It's okay, though—your flight is in two hours, and you can catch up on sleep then. You start stretching to help wake yourself up, as the uncomfortable chairs have left your back feeling sore.

Once you were done, you broke the silence by asking, "Are you ready for Virginia?" while letting out a yawn.

"I don't really have a choice but to be," she replies, her tone tinged with annoyance about the move, and understandably so.

Nicole was always on the move, but she had hoped to settle in Texas for a while. Recently, however, she, her mom, and her brother were forced to relocate because her brother had downloaded illegal content.

You recall how desperate she sounded, almost begging you to come with her—she'd never sounded that vulnerable in the two years you've known her. Although she wouldn't admit it, she's grown very fond of you, and she'd be devastated if she had to leave her only genuine friend behind because of her brother's mistake.

You two met during your freshman year of high school and became inseparable within a month. Your many similarities helped forge a close bond between you. Nicole appreciated you because you weren't boring and were always there for her. Whether she was sneaking off to get high or pulling other stunts, you'd cover for her and tell her mom she was with you. She'll always be grateful for that.

Before this move, Nicole wasn't a "bad" person; she was just trying to figure things out. She had a lot of friends and was considered one of the "popular girls," just like you. You balanced each other out—she was black and you were pink, with your lightness contrasting her darkness. You truly bonded when you opened up to her and shared your deepest feelings.

You were both at her house, high out of your minds. With her mom away for a few days, it was just the two of you and her brother at home. You sat on the floor with your head resting in her lap, and she absentmindedly ran her fingers through your hair. As the conversation shifted from gossip about the pregnant girl in your shared chemistry class, it eventually veered into your own deep-seated mental struggles.

When weed hits your system, you tend to get chatty, and Nicole seemed like the perfect person to unload on. So, you shared every traumatic experience from your life with her—your past suicide attempts, your ex-boyfriend cheating on you with your friends, your struggles with drug abuse, your father's poor behavior, and much more.

Nicole listened intently to every word that night. She liked you—thought you were pretty, funny, and a perfect match for her. What's not to like? Although she'd had her own struggles, she found your situation a bit more intense than hers, and she appreciated that. It wasn't that she enjoyed seeing you in pain; she hated that. Instead, she valued knowing that someone truly understood her. You weren't just someone saying, "I get your pain"—you were as messed up as she was.

Over time, your mom had given Nicole a key to your house, and she practically lived there. You two were inseparable. If she skipped class, you were right there with her. If you wanted to go out to eat, she suddenly became hungry too. And if she needed to use the bathroom, you were there waiting for her, which is how you ended up in your current situation.

Eventually, the toilet flushed with a final whoosh, and the door swung open. As Nicole washed up, you occupied yourself by scrolling through your messages, your thumb moving swiftly over the screen as you replied to old texts from friends. Nicole brushed past you, heading for the towels, her footsteps light on the bathroom tiles. You slipped your phone into your pocket and settled back, waiting for her to finish.

"you wanna get something to eat?"

[siriusleee]

adamantine chains | part 9

"Amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus." "What does that mean?" "Love is rich with both honey and venom." "I suppose that is true." Or which in König finds you broken in the mountains. A retelling of Cupid and Psyche. König | Reader

tags: small cuts, breaking and entering aftermath, an angry man request a fic here | buy me a coffee so I don't have to work overtime and can write more

find the other parts of this story on my masterlist here.

Valentina is waiting for you at the front door of her tiny apartment, a thin robe wrapped tightly around her. You're almost hysterical as you slam the car into park; she meets you at the driver's side door, pulling the handle before you get a chance to open it.

"Are you alright? What is going on?"

"There's someone at my house - I don't know how to call for help; I just left."

Valentina's hand is warm against yours as she pulls you out of the car, slamming the door shut behind you.

"Are you sure it wasn't König? Did he come home?"

"No," you shake your head as she pulls you into the doorway of the walk-up. "He always comes to get me or he would have called. And they were smaller than him. I don't know who it is."

Valentina chews on her lip as she pulls you to her apartment, pushing the door open with her hip.

"Do you want me to call the police now?"

"No - the guy is probably gone. I just - can I stay the night here? I can call them tomorrow to go with me."

"Ja; of course. Of Course."

Valentina flutters around you; a moth slamming against a flame as she takes your bag, pushes a bowl of whatever she cooked for dinner into your hands. She never stops moving; it would be unnerving if she wasn't always on the move. 

You eat absentmindedly - brain stuck on the image of the strange man illuminated in the red of your tail lights. There had been something so familiar in the confident lilt of his stance at the doorway; something so wolflike in the way he had stood there - like it was his den and you were interrupting him. 

Valentina doesn't stop moving; the moment you finish eating she swaps the bowl with a set of worn pajamas, swearing that the two of you are close enough in size that they'll fit. You let her shoo you into the bathroom, so tiny that you can stretch your hands out on each side and touch the opposing walls. 

You strip, doing your best not to look at your naked self in the mirror; you try to tell yourself it's a trick of the dim lighting - the shadow of a bump. The doctor still had time to call - to calm your worries before you needed to really start panicking. 

Valentina chatters to you in German when you emerge; you only understand about half of the words. Just enough to know that she needs help pulling out the sleeper bed. The two of you struggle against the weight until it unfolds, slamming heavily into the floor. A minute later, as the two of you tuck in the sheets, her downstairs neighbor slams the ceiling with a broomstick and yells at the two of you. Valentina stomps, once, twice, shouting back in her own clipped German. 

"Are you going to be alright? Sleeping out here? You can sleep with me if you want."

The image of you and her, snuggled up in her tiny bed makes you snort.

"I'm fine Valentina. I don't need your knees in my back all night. Thank you for letting me stay here."

"We're friends right? Anyway, tomorrow morning we'll get the police to go with us and see who was there. You can stay here until König comes home if you want."

You watch as she disappears into her room; the dark living room is illuminated by the crack of light that comes from beneath the front door. Twice, someone walks by, their shadows slipping beneath the doorway and you freeze, fingers clutching onto the blankets. 

The nightmares return, but this time, they're different. 

You're walking through the village, snow flurries falling but not sticking to the ground. Your hand is wrapped tightly in your grandfather's; he's chatting to you in Polish, but the words are fuzzy, and you can't understand what he's saying. 

But you feel yourself smiling - it's heavy and stretches your face to the point of hurting. You're pointing out something in the distance; there's a movement in your belly. When you look down, it's swollen underneath the thick wool of your jacket. 

Instead of abject horror, a warm feeling pulls through you; your granddad tugs at your hand. When you look up, he's smiling and gestures to your belly. He still chatters away at you; you can't make out what he's saying, but you know by the joy in his face, he's excited to meet his great-grandchild.

The two of you turn a corner; he freezes, hand suddenly cold in yours. Ahead of you - your old fiance fills the small alleyway. Marcus - the sight of his face floods something in your heart; you try to hide your belly beneath the shopping bag in your hands. Your grandfather pushes you behind him; you want to tell him that he's too old - too fragile to be protecting you, but you can't make your mouth form the words. Up ahead Marcus grins, sharp teeth glinting in the snow filtered light.

He speaks, but the only sound that reaches you is the sharp bite of a wolf's growl. Your grandfather's hand shakes in yours; Marcus steps to you and your gripped by fear. 

König, you have to call König. You will your hands to reach into your pocket, to grab the phone that's suddenly heavy in your pocket. It burns through the lining, burning into your skin, but you can't grab it. Marcus keeps walking towards you, and the heavy fear and worry grows heavier. 

His hand reaches out towards your grandfather; before you can scream, someone shakes you awake.

Valentina's hands are cold against your sweaty skin as she pulls you back into the darkness of her living room. Just like your grandfather - you can see her mouth moving, but the words are moths against the droning in your ear. It's not until she pushes the hair back from your face that her voice cuts through the buzzing sound.

"-alright. You're alright."

You hold her hands tightly in yours, trying to ground yourself until your heart slows. You can't get the look on Marcus's face out of your mind. He'd looked so angry: any why wouldn't he? The moment that he'd died you'd all but abandoned the thought of him for König. 

"Do you want me to sleep in here with you?"

You don't know if you can trust yourself to speak - if you do, you might throw up. So instead you nod, and scoot over for Valentina to crawl in beside you. She does - she's so warm you flinch away from her at first. But once she pulls the blanket over the two of you, you let her warmth lull you back into sleep.

This time, you don't remember what you've dreamt about.

The police, it turns out, includes an ex of Valentina's who arrives at her place not long after she calls his number. He stands sheepishly in the doorway while Valentia chirps to him in hurried German, explaining the entire situation. 

"Do you want to make a report?" He asks you when Valentina is finally done speaking. 

"Nein. No. I'd like to see if anything was taken first."

You lead the two of them back to the house - you and Valentina in your car, and he follows close behind. His name is Jakob, Valentina tells you, explaining how they break up and make up every few weeks. 

"But he is a good man - he will help you."

The house is completely ransacked. Everything is destroyed, smashed against the ground. In your and König's bedroom everything is pulled from the drawers and strewn about. Jakob and Valentina comb through the house; with shaky hands you pick up the pictures that had once been on the coffee table, now smashed onto the ground in a sea of glass. 

The ones König and Oma are still there, boot prints stomped onto the front. But one of you and König, taken on a night when there had been a small carnival, is gone. 

The sound of heavy tires on the dirt outside causes you to jump, slicing your fingers on the edge of a glass shard. Jakob appears from the back room, Valentina right behind him. They both look worried, but you know that thick, heavy tread - having committed it to memory. 

You beat the two of them to the front door, blood dripping down your fingers as you trip out of the door. On the other side, König is climbing out of the truck. Through the dark tint you can see a dark haired woman staring at you. 

König is yelling as he comes across the hard - bag slung over his shoulder. 

"Taube, what is going on here? Why are the police here?"

You don't get a chance to answer him before he's dropped the bag and yanked you to his side. Jakob speaks to him in German, so fast it doesn't sound as if he's even speaking more than one sentence. The truck backs up slowly, the woman still staring at you as she turns the wheel to drive away.

König's hand tightens painfully on your elbow as Jakob speaks - behind him Valentina peers at König with wide eyes; you turn your attention to König as he speaks angrily to Jakob. He's filthy, dark spots and dirt covering his tactical gear. His eyes are covered in a layer of dirt and have a feral edge. And you want nothing more than to curl up beside him. 

You know the conversation is over when Jakob grabs Valentina's shoulder and gently guides her towards his official car. König watches the two of them with a razor focus, his hand consistently getting tighter on your elbow. He doesn't move until the car is gone; when it's just a speck on the horizon, König turns his focus to you. 

The look in his eyes makes you step back; it's reminiscent of the night you pulled his mask up, but the edge of his eyes are darker. 

"Was ist passiert, während ich weg war? Hast du die Tür nicht abgeschlossen?"

"Ja! I had the door locked! One of them broke after you left but -"

"Hast du es reparieren lassen? Was it fixed?"

"Yes! I locked the door before work, and when I came home I could see him-"

"Ihn? Ein Mann war in meinem Haus?"

His look is venomous. He starts to shake you, and you jerk your hand out of grip.

"König, I'm sorry; I don't know how he got in. I'm sorry."

Fiber by fiber, his muscles start to loosen. Beneath the mask you watch the darkness slip from his eyes. It takes an act of God; you can feel the effort rolling off of him, for him to bend down and pick up his bag.

"I'm sorry for getting angry. Taube. It is not your fault.Lass uns rein gehen."

He leads you in; you let him take your hand, so gently you can barely feel his touch. But the anger returns when he takes in the destroyed interior, when he drops you hand and sees the blood from your cut finger smeared there.

"You're hurt."

It's a flat observation - devoid of the tone that usually makes his voice so warm.

"It's nothing - I cut it, picking up some of the glass."

Bag dropping heavily on the floor, König leads you to the kitchen. The small chairs that circled the table are matchsticks across the floor; without a warning König lifts you to the counter. He moves you so fast you don't even have time to protest. He leans down to be eye level with him; through the dirt and grease you can see the exhaustion written on the far corners of his eyes. You want to apologize for the problems he walked into, but before you can, he takes the cut finger and flips his mask back, places it in his mouth.

"That's disgusting Kö," you can't help the giggle that comes out of you; you try to pull your finger back, but he keeps a bruising grip on you wrist. When he pulls it away, you see your blood on his tongue.

"You are mine Taube, and I am yours. It is not disgusting."

He speaks without looking at you, instead choosing to study the now no longer bleeding cut. Placing your hand gently in your lap, he leans on one hand to cage you in, resting his forehead against yours, the mask tickling your nose. "I was supposed to come and find you at work. Pick you up early and bring you home; I was going to fuck you on the front lawn because I couldn't wait any longer. But this - I'm sorry I left you alone, Taube."

[linkemon]

Valentine's Day 2023 headcanons 2

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here.

Tighnari

✧ Tighnari has had his hands full since drastic changes have come to Sumeru. He remembered Valentine's Day only the day before it arrived. Fortunately, he had made some preparations in advance.

✧ He pretended to forget about Valentine's Day in front of Collei and the other rangers all day. When you specifically mentioned this holiday, they told you that their supervisor was busy and it's not like that this year. All this so that in the evening he could tease you that he really had no idea. It wasn't until you sadly believed him that he told you to follow him.

✧ Tighnari has been running a personal project to save endangered plant species, especially flowers, for some time. Most of them had their extra seedlings in a place of his choosing in the forest. In this way, a kind of fantastic, wild garden was created, emanating many colors and smells. You were the first person he allowed to see him.

✧ You laughed which Tighnari didn't understand until you handed him your gift. You brought him a foreign dandelion seed straight from Mondstadt. Of course, he'd seen one before but he hadn't had the chance to grow one himself. You think in a very similar way and Valentine's Day reminded you a lot of that.

✧ He let you spend extra time admiring his tail. He doesn't like it that much but you love that aspect of him, so if a few extra minutes mean that much to you, he might make an exception sometimes.

Lisa Minci

✧ Valentine's Day trip to Sumer sounded very exotic to you. Lisa had some errands to run there, so it felt natural to combine the two. You weren't particularly drawn to go abroad on this particular occasion but you knew you couldn't win with it anyway.

✧ If you knew what you're going through, you'd probably never agree to it. After crossing the border, you were attacked by a horde of bizarre mushrooms. It probably wouldn't be a problem because the two of you can fight, if not for the fact that at the same time you were attacked by Eremites who stole things from your small encampment at the time.

✧ You knew that after all the commotion you would arrive in the city late at night. On the spot, you and Lisa had to look for her old friends who were not very willing to lend her money and it was not a very large amount.

✧ Minci had to wait until your return to Mondstadt for her real gift. It was an extremely old book that was missing from her collection. During your unhappy stay in Sumer, you gave her the purple roses you picked on the way.

✧ Lisa bought you dinner that day, laughing that she spent all her money on it (that's what she said at the time but she knew she'd get paid the next day for some information sold in town). This upset you but you were used to the woman's crazy ideas and trusted her as always.

✧ Tired after the day, you spent the evening poor but happy. The view of the moon and stars from Lisa's favourite place from her student days is unforgettable.

Yaoyao

✧ When Yaoyao accidentally overheard your conversation with Xiangling, she knew she had to do something. You were a little sad that everyone around you was getting ready for Valentine's Day and you didn't have your other half. That's why the little girl has set herself the goal of giving you the best possible holiday that will celebrate friendship.

✧ Was it a busy day? Of course but nothing is worth your sad face. The first on the visit list was of course the master chef along with Guoba. Then Cloud Retainer, who was supposed to be responsible for finding gifts in her collection (no one else would even think to ask her, considering how she likes to receive them...). The last stop was Ganyu's office, where the girl, falling asleep, promised to arrange a place in the teahouse (nothing else could be counted on in such a short time).

✧ Later, Yaoyao spent the whole day inviting all hers and yours friends who didn't have plans for the day yet.

✧ You didn't expect to spend the evening in such a nice atmosphere. Yelan, Shenhe, Keqing, Xinqiu, Hu Tao and many of your other friends have appeared. You all ate the treats that the happy Guoba gave you, while opening the fancy mechanical gifts that the Cloud Retainer had prepared. In your case, it was a miniature pocket watch that showed scenes from the life of ancient adepti.

✧ Yaoyao was extremely modest as always but you quickly guessed that all the fun was her doing. You thanked her because getting together in a large group reminded you that you are loved by your friends.

[carpedzem]

Hi! apologies if this is weird or anything, feel free to not answer!! i think that if I'm right, you're Polish

I'm probably going to be moving to Poland to teach for 8 months next year and have a choice of places to go including Warsaw, Kraków, Wrocław, Poznań, as well as a few smaller towns.

do you, or any other polish blogs, have any recommendations for cities or places to stay or visit, or just any advice/tips for living in Poland at all?

I've never visited and am a little unsure of where to go so any advice would be great, but obv no pressure!

very very happy to come off anon or dm/message if that'd be any easier and obv I'm not trying to doxx or anything so if you'd rather not say anything I'd completely 100% understand :)

(also btw you always have very based lore opinions and I love reading your analysis!)

hi anon! first of all it's perfectly okay to dm me! dont mind me answering in random moments tho im really busy this month :( nevertheless putting some answers under the cut :]

i'm for a big city! i would recommend moving in here because in general it provides a better living standards, for example public transport can take you anywhere and it's relevantly cheep, you have all kinds of things to spend free time - including museums, art galleries, clubs, etc. but general living cost is higher! it also depends on from where you are - if your currency right now is dollar, euro or pounds you will probably win living anywhere at this moment LMAO since inflation is crushing our currency

also in big city the chances that other people speak english are also way higher, especially among older folks - not saying that small cities citizens are lacking in educations, they just need using english less and tend to forget it!

i can recommend my city from the bottom of my heart bc i love it so so much. of course it's not perfect, but it's lovely and full of life. and i feel relatively safe here

about things you can see... gods there is so much to see in poland. list is soooo long

i keep thinking about things i could tell you and its a lot lmao sorry you meet someone who really likes history and know things asdhasdh so yeah feel free to ask about anything :D

[casualpersonapersonpeach]

The slashers reacting to you painting their nails/ playing with their hair!

Michael Myers:

If you are at the point of your relationship with Michael where he is comfortable with his mask being off around you, then he will absolutely adore when you play with his hair.

Michael, like most of the slashers, is very touch starved. As soon as you start running your fingers through his hair, his eyes will almost roll back or he will close his eyes. It's a brand new feeling for him. At this point in your relationship, he will let you know he really likes it a lot.

If you are not at that point with him, painting his nails is a great alternative. At this point in the relationship he is comfortable with physical touch. When you ask him " Mikey, would you like your nails painted ?? " (In the sweetest voice ever) he appears unreadable. But on the inside he is actually able to keep it together. He finds it really cute. He will only let you paint his nails black though. You may not know, but michael is looking at you with adoration in his eyes. The way you kindly caress every scar, touch his hands gently, and enjoy spending time with him, makes his heart swell.

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms is more indifferent to nails. But he's touched starved so he will gladly jump at the chance to have you touch him. He will use it as an excuse to touch your hands too by offering the same for you after. He would feel so cared about. He initially didn't really understand the process of painting nails or anything.

If you ask to play with his hair, he'll ask you immediately if you can either play with his hair, whole cuddling in bed, or if you can wash it in the shower/bath. This is probably all Brahms ever wanted honestly. He might be a bit cheeky though. He won't wash/play with your hair because he would've already fallen asleep. Brahms will make it up to you, promise.

Jason Voorhees:

Jason would be so flustered too. He's never understood what nail painting is or the concept of it entirely. He's really excited to learn this from you. He looks so enamored with you the entire time (because he is). The way you touch him makes his sweet heart skip a beat. He loves when you teach him things. It's a really special thing about your relationship- teaching and showing each other brand new things. There's such a sweet intimacy from it.

In terms of washing his hair, what he has is only a few little it's here and there. He might feel a little insecure about you touching his head (depending on if he's been maskless with you yet). He will absolutely offer to play with yours though. Any way you want it, he will do. Jason will want to even wash your hair, he wants to show you he cares about you. No matter your hair type or hair routine- as long as you explain to him on what to do- he's down to learn.

Daniel Robitaille:

Daniel is also not super into nails. But he gladly accepts the offer because he likes spending time with you. Daniel would probably prefer something more neutral/ subtle too. What is remarkable about this to Daniel, is that you want to include him in a routine you usually do alone. It makes Daniel feel so loved.

He will also love it if you play with his hair gently. He thinks it's a really affectionate. And he is also pretty touch starved. Daniel won't let you fall asleep until he has returned the favour for you. He will lay you on his lap, and do the same for you. Whispering sweet words. His voice like honey. " I love you " " i want you to fall asleep peacefully, love " " you're so beautiful ", are all things he will be whispering gently to you. Daniel will definitely be flustered if you offer to play / brush with your fingers through his hair again. An small initiate act like this speaks thousands of words to him. It tells him that you love him over and over.

Bo Sinclair:

Bo might scoff a little at the idea of you painting his nails. If he ends up saying yes, he will only agree upon black nail polish. He'll probably tease you heaps during this. He does think it's cute though.

However, when you offer to play with his hair. His heart is pounding. It's one of Bo's favourite forms of touch, and he feels so connected to you it in this moment, even if you only meant to touch him playfully. Unfortunately with Bo's past, he isn't used to be touched kindly. You'll need to be very gentle with him. His head will fall back into your hands and he will let out a relaxed groan. " Darlin' i don't know how ya do it, ya' must have magic in them hands or somethin' " Bo says, so lightly. He may just fall asleep like this.

Lester Sinclair:

Lester lights up as soon as you even suggest painting his nails. He'll be so giddy. He loves the fact that you want to even touch him. He's over the moon. Lester will let you paint his nails any colour you'd like! Lester uses this opportunity to have a deep conversation with you. He likes the intimacy this creates.

After painting his nails. You sit behind him. "What'cha doin' darlin'? " He teasingly asks. As soon as you start running your fingers through his hair and massaging his hair gently he immediately says " oh, this is what ya been plannin' huh? I like that hun " he paused and says so softly " thank ya' so much baby " he looks so vulnerable. Lester is also not used to being touched much, and so kindly too. He will offer to play with your hair (he will be gentle i promise). He wants to give you what you give him. This all means so much to Lester will try to paint your nails, it will be a bit messy but he's trying! He loves spending this time with you.

Vincent Sinclair:

Vincent is very open to the idea. He is even keen on you painting on some nail art as opposed to a solid colour if you want! He loves seeing this bubbly and artistic side to you. So he definitely encourages it. He loves the way your fingers graze over his hands so gently. He doesn't mind what colour you choose.

When you ask him if you can play with his hair, he is blushing wildly under his mask. He'll let you brush his hair first. Vincent will curl up in your lap, it you don't want him sitting on you, you can sit on the couch, and have him sit on the floor in front of you.

Vincent is pretty excited. He can't help but be in awe with your softly you touch him. It makes him feel emotional that you want to help him feel relaxed, and that you are making him feel so loved. Vincent will also offer to paint your nails and play with you hair. He will do any nail design you want. His talent for art shines through anything he does.

Norman Bates (psycho 1960):

Norman at first feels pretty shy about having you paint his nails. He isn't too opposed to it, however his mother may beg to differ due to gender norms and such. Norman likes the actual act of service you give him though. To be safe , you may have to do a nude / subtle colour or a clear nail gel. Norman will feel so flustered as you lightly touch his fingers.

When you start playing with his hair, making tiny little twists, norman feels flustered again. He also hasn't really been touched like this. His shyness may make it seem like he isn't enjoying it. But he's just a timid man in general. Underneath, he doesn't even know what to do with himself , he's so happy. It's hard to contain. Norman will absolutely thank you and ask you if you'd like him to play with you hair, and if you'd want to lay on his chest while he does so.

Bubba Sawyer:

Bubba is squealing! He's so excited. Bubba will let you paint hot, vibrant colours! If you want to add any gems or anything, he will absolutely welcome it. Bubba will be fidgeting with excitement. Bubba will beg you to allow him to paint your nails matching to his. He will try to be as precise as possible.

When you start massaging his head, he cannot contain his excitement at all. Bubba will absolutely insist of having you sit in his lap and brush your hair and attempt to braid it. It may be a bit messy, but he thinks it's so cute. He will tie bows in your hair because he thinks it looks so sweet on you. Bubba would adore it if you tried braiding his hair, it may be too short to braid, but he'd love it anything. If you tied little pig tails in his hair, he'd adore it more than anything. And if you had cute little butterfly clips???? He will squeal so much.

Thomas Hewitt:

Thomas would probably prefer having black painted onto his nails. Thomas isn't too into nails or anything, but he is really happy you want to spend this time with him. He is more excited about the fact that it makes him feel pampered- something sadly, that is foreign to him. Thomas enjoys the time and attention that you are giving him. It makes him want to try to do the same for you, it's more about giving you that same feeling you gave him.

Oh but the hairwashing- he's excited for the attention sure. But Thomas absolutely loves the way your fingers feel roaming his hair. And if you offer to then wash his hair and scrub it down with shampoo and conditioner???? He's a very, very happy man. He is probably more excited for this. If you kissed his head too???- his heart is pounding. He will offer to wash yours, but you can decline politely and then say " I want tonight to be all about pampering you honey. We can save mine for another time ".

Leslie Vernon:

Leslie isn't that much into nails either. But he will absolutely jump at the opportunity to sit with you in a quiet place, softly speaking to each other (or knowing Leslie, laughing a lot too). He won't mind it, so long as it's a subtle or neutral colour. What he will apprieciate most though, is the way you touch him so affectionately and lovingly. He is quick to touch you back. You'll probably end up cuddling together afterwards.

It's a cold evening, so you and Leslie cuddle up by the fire. Slowly you start adding one finger after the other into his hair. Leslie just giggles. He can't recall a time anybody ever did this for him. He will lay in your lap and recite his iconic one liners and dad jokes. He will thank you for it after though. Don't think he never apprieciates what you do. He will always tell you and show that. It makes Leslie want to be even more affectionate towards you. Displaying your love like this for him makes him feel encouraged to do this for you even more often. He will want you to fall asleep on his chest for the entire night though, returning the favour.

[heeracha]

## this side of him. — l. heeseung

content/warning(s): cold (??) bf hee,,, well not rlly cold just yknow,, someone who is cold on the outside but when it's just the two of you, they just go heart eyes

wc: 0.7k

note: ......im in my hee feels. i want this to be a part of the hee smau but im too busy to do any updates and i can't wait so i just—

the way people move, getting out of heeseung's way with their heads down when the said boy is seen to be going in their direction is something you could never understand. heeseung was your lovely boyfriend who just happens to look intimidating.

but to be fair, the way you would cling on heeseung being all giggly with hearts on your eyes is something people could never understand. they never understand how heeseung is just calm, just playing in his phone when you're putting flowers on his hair.

heeseung used to be the scary cold boy to everyone. well, he still is the scary cold boy, just now, he's in a relationship. you would think heeseung doesn't care, but when you look really closely, he'd have a small smile on his lips as he secretly looks at you as you put the small flowers on his hair.

as heeseung makes his way to your dorm, everyone lowering their heads down as they move. heeseung rolls his eyes, thinking people are overreaccting. it's not like he would do anything if they bump on him. he wouldn't even do anything even if they push him or whatever.

once he opens the door of your dorm, he sees you on your bed. you turn your head to your boyfriend, smiling widely. "hello, my love." you say as you press your palms against the towel on your lap.

"hi, doll." heeseung greets, putting his bag down as he closes the door. "what are you doing?"

"oh, uh, painting my nails." you anser with a small chuckle. "i saw this very pretty nail polish with glitters and butterflies. i can't help but buy it, so, yeah."

heeseung smiles and you smile back.

"how's your day?" you softly ask and heeseung hums, walking towards you as he sits on the ground in front of you. "rough day?"

"no," heeseung says, shaking his head. "it's just the same. people walking away from me, being scared, whatever." he says and you tilt your head as you smile sadly. you know how much he honestly hates it, he wants people to know that he's very kind and approachable.

"they don't matter, okay?" you say and heeseung looks at you. "you may have a small group of friends—and me—but we're your real friends, you know that."

"i know." heeseung says as he takes the small bottle of nail polish, opening it as he takes your dominant hand, starting to paint your nails. "i just... hate people doing what they do."

see, this is what they don't see. the soft side of heeseung that his friends and you could get to see. you honestly hate it, too. people thinking that heeseung is some sort of someone you shouldn't be friends with. but whatever, it's their loss for not seeing the beauty of heeseung.

"i hate them, too." you say and heeseung smiles at you. "i'm lucky i got to see this side of you."

heeseung hums. "thanks for taking the chance." he says, kissing your nose as you scrunch your nose to which heeseung chuckles. heeseung closes the bottle of nail polish, putting it aside. "how's your day, doll?"

you look up, humming as you press your lips into a thin line. heeseung looks at you as he looks to where you're previously looking. he looks down to see his hand.

"you want to paint my nails?" heeseung asks and you hum, shaking your head 'no'. heeseung smiles, grabbing the bottle of nail polish as he holds it out to you.

your eyes light up, smiling widely. "really?" you say and heeseung nods, a smile on his face.

"how's your day?" heeseung says as he puts his hand on your lap, where the towel is. you start talking about your day as you paint on your boyfriend's nails. heeseung looks at you, a small smile on his face as he listens to everything you say.

you stop talking, looking at him as a small smile settles on your face as well.

"what's wrong? why'd you stop, doll?" heeseung asks and you shake your head.

"nothing. i just love you." you say and heeseung widely smiles.

people never understood heeseung, but you did. and that's what matters to him.

"i love you, too."

permanent taglist [ open! ] : @ja4hyvn @goldenhypen @acciomylove @kuromieiie @baekhyunstruly @knrejj @tomorrowbymoa-together @mygnolia @person-standing @son9oi @ferxanda @hutao-s @rising-ashes @missmadwoman @todorokiskitten @dinosdance @candidupped @clarakyunisageek

[sunflower-sunshinesuperman]

The Diner

Pt.1

Eddie Munson x Reader series

An: This is my first little series that I’ve done, this isn’t the most exciting starter chapter but in part 2 it will start to pick up. It won’t be too long until part 2 is ready to post! I don’t have a posting schedule as I work a full time job lol but I will do my best to post regularly. Any feedback is welcome 💕

You'd only been in Hawkins for a very short amount of time and finding a job had been proving to be extremely difficult. Maybe coming here was a bad idea, interview after interview. It's not like Hawkins is overflowing with places to work either.

You had no job, no money. Currently living out of a small shitty motel, no possessions or prospects and only a small bag full of clothes. You took off from home leaving everything behind, craving change and a new start. Back home, grades were low, causing tension with your mother, amongst all other things.

All of your younger siblings were ungrateful for all you've done for them. Fair enough your mother was struggling since your dad took off, leaving her to care for your younger brother and 2 little sisters. But it ended up all being put onto you, not only leading to your grades dropping, but completely draining any energy and want to live out of your body.

So you ran. As fast as you could, just snapping one day. Not even thinking about what would happen to you or your family. You just ran, not looking back. You got on the first bus that came to the bus stop by your house, hopped on and sat there until the very last stop.

And here you are. Hawkins. Walking from business to business just trying to find a job. Any job. You don't even know anyone at all that could help you in the search so all you have on your side is blind faith, there has be something.

The summer heat was beating down on your shoulders as you walk along the busy street, school was out so kids are running everywhere, laughing and playing as their mothers watch on from afar, keeping an eye on them as they run their errands.

That blind faith you had was starting to run out as you made it to the end of the street. One place left to try. A diner. Standing alone on the street but busy enough.

Come on this my last option. Every diner need waitresses or something right? Ok let's do this.

You march towards the entrance, a little bell dinging on top of the door, alerting everyone of your arrival. It's seems nice enough, cute little 50's vibe. Not too busy and not too quiet.

"Hia! Can I help you honey?" Your gaze snaps up to see they sweetest looking older lady standing behind the massive counter, polishing the silverware. "Oh yes! Actually. I was just wondering if you had any jobs going?" Her lovely little wrinkled face seemed to drop slightly at your query. "Oh. Honey I'm sorr-"

"Please. Anything. This is my last chance." You begged, cutting off her sentence, not wanting to believe what she was saying. Trying not to be upset as your eyes started to burn. "I'm so desperate, I've tried everywhere. Please." Your shoulders slumped as the woman eyed you with a sad look, pity behind her big, brown eyes.

"Sweets I would give you something if I had anything, I'm so, so sorry. Everyone's trying to find summer jobs you see?"

Great. Perfect. So much for blind faith. You're eyes watered, beginning to spill. But you just sniffed and rubbed your palms into your eyes, then pushing the baby hairs out of your now red, hot face as you started to get a cold sweat.

"No, no I understand. I'm so sorry for bothering you ma'am, I'm sure something will come along." You forced a shaky smile. Trying not to become hysterical in the middle of a random diner, in front of a clearly, very sweet old lady. Really you just want to rip your hair out and fall to your knees, screaming up into the sky.

You turned hastily trying to leave as quickly as possible, as not to cause a scene, converse slightly squeaking at the speed of your feet moving on the black and white checkered vinyl floor. Gripping your bag tightly. That was it. There really is nothing, Your going to have to go home.

If you can't make money, you can't stay here. Going home is the worst case scenario, but the very small amount of money you bought with you all went into the motel, there isn't even money for food. Not a dime.

Just as you grabbed the door handle, pulling and making the bell ding once more. A miracle happened. "Wait! Honey, one second!" The tiny woman scuttled around the counter, rummaging her chubby little hands through her apron that was tied around her waist.

She pulled out a pen and a little note book that she used to scribble down peoples orders, holding it out towards you. "Here, write down your telephone number, I'll see if I can find anything and give you a call. Okay?" Her face sympathetic. For a moment you just stared down at the notepad in front of your face, more in disbelief than anything.

Maybe there is a god? Hell no. But this old lady must be some sort of angel.

"Oh thank you so much!" You suddenly exclaimed. "You're more than welcome sweetheart, it's not a lot but I'll see what I can do, although it might not be a full time role." A sweet smile made its way to her face while she waited for you to hastily wrote the telephone number for your motel room. "It doesn't matter! Really ma'am I'm so grateful for anything at all!"

"I'm Patricia, everyone calls me patty." She pocketed the notebook once more, then grabbing you hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. "Y/n, thank you again Patty, you really don't know how much this means to me. Really!" And with that you turned on your heels and walked towards the door and back into the sunshine, a sudden spring in your step. Waving a goodbye to patty through the window with a smile on your face. But a slight headache at all the emotions you had just experienced.

Laying on the uncomfortable bed in your motel you just waited by the phone, with your fingers crossed. The television was playing some talk show in the background as you tried to distract your mind.

Maybe I shouldn't get my hopes up, patty said she'd try to find something, but realistically it's the summer and lots of people are searching for jobs. A day had gone by with no call. Apparently there used to be a big mall here,but there was a fire. Burning it completely to the ground. It would have been so perfectly easy to find a job there.

You find yourself thinking back to your old life. All you had to worry about was keeping your grades up and if you'd get a date to prom. But after your asshole of a so called father walked out, your life literally flipped upside down. Not to say you were ever the most popular prom queen in school, but you got on with most people from different cliques.

But your mum completely withdrew herself and just became dead behind the eyes, unresponsive and not caring about you or your siblings. So you had to step up. Basically becoming a young mum of three. They were ungrateful but they didn't understand what was happening or why things were the way that they were.

All you could do was be there for them and be the best that you could be. But honestly, you still don't understand why things happened the way they did, so how can you explain that to kids? You knew that your dad ran off with a younger girl. But you couldn't explain that to them, they're not really old enough to process the information of what a dickhead he was for doing what he did.

Maybe one day, when they're older they'll find out. But it definitely didn't help when they asked constantly, "where's daddy?" Or "when's daddy coming home?".

The loud ringing of the phone cut you out of your thoughts. You launched yourself off the bed picking up the phone on the second ring. "Hello?" You spoke hopefully. "Hello! Is this y/n? It's Patty from the diner!" You signed in relief. "Hi! Yes it's me!" "Hi sweetheart" she chuckled "You're in luck honey! We're extending our opening hours because of the summer, and we need someone to work nights! Does that sound good for you?" Honestly, you shed a single tear at the thought of finally having money to eat.

"Yes! Yes! I'll take the job Patty, you will never know how greatful I am!" She laughed once more at your ecstatic response. "Ok lovely, can you start tomorrow night at around 8pm?" "Of course I'll be there!" You squeezed your eyes shut to stop the happy tears, releasing a breathe you didn't know you were holding. "Ok perfect! I'll see you then honey! Bye now!"

And with that your hope had been restored, everything's going to be alright.

[five-rivers]

If you're taking prompt what if Inko was the daughter of AfO and Izuku still gets OfA later. But he has fire breath like his dead beat dad thanks to his grandfather. Teach him for running out on his baby girl.

It had taken long enough that his minions were in need of a serious reprimand, but finally Midoriya Hisashi was sprawled on the ground at All for One's feet. He was suitably beaten, bound, and blindfolded, but alive, as requested.

"Hello, Hisashi. I suppose you didn't think you'd ever see me again." He used the man's first name, because he didn't care to associate his daughter's surname with this sniveling waste of space, even if he had legally adopted it at their farce of a wedding.

Hisashi froze. A whisper of smoke leaked past his lips.

"I wonder, do you even recognize my voice?"

"Shi- Shigaraki..."

"Oh, very good!" All for One clapped his hands in a show of false cheer. "So! You remember your father-in-law, but not your wife? Not your son?"

"I- I-"

"Because amnesia is the only acceptable excuse I can think of for abandoning them and trying to move all the way to Hokkaido. Unless you'd like to try a different one." All for One paused, and the silence stretched out before him, thin and brittle, much like Hisashi's bones. "I'm waiting."

"It- it isn't my fault," whined the man. "And I- I was always going to send money back. I just- I just can't live there anymore. I- Shouldn't you be pleased about this? You hated me and Inko get-"

All for One kicked Hisashi sharply. "Don't even say her name. I did hate your sham of a marriage. But as long as it made her happy, I put up with it."

Hisashi wheezed, more smoke filling the air of the disused underground parking garage they were meeting in.

"Speak clearly," demanded All for One.

"It- the boy. He's quirkless. I could- couldn't stay, with everyone knowing."

"Oh?" said All for One, voice suddenly silky smooth. He bent over and put his hand on top of Hisashi's head. "Well, lucky for you, that's something I can fix."

.

All for One dropped Hisashi on one of Garaki's carefully polished operating tables. "Make him into something interesting," he ordered, and Garaki scrambled to examine his new materials.

Meanwhile, All for One took a seat in one of Garaki's rolling chair. "I simply don't understand it," he said. "Who leaves their family just because they had a quirkless child? Unbelievable."

Of course, All for One had seen similar things many times before in his long life and knew they happened very well. He simply failed to understand. With his brother, even when he'd actively been trying to dismantle his empire... Destroying other people made sense, but family was special.

"He should be pleased by this outcome, really. Izuku won't be quirkless for much longer."

"You- you're giving him a quirk, my lord?"

"Yes," said All for One. "This fool's quirk, to be precise. And perhaps his grandmother's. I'll miss it, of course, but to be honest, I don't really use it the way it should be."

"But," said Garaki, "my lord, I've already diagnosed the boy as quirkless."

"Then you'll just have to practice your groveling for when you apologize to them." He paused. "Surely you aren't concerned about the medical reputation of a throwaway identity?"

"Not at all, my lord," said Garaki in a way that indicated extreme dissatisfaction.

All for One ignored him.

.

"Kacchan! Kacchan! Guess what? Guess what?"

"Go away, nerd!"

Izuku was undeterred. "I got my quirk!"

Kacchan scowled mightily. "No you didn't! You were dig-dag-dignoz-" The frown became mightier. "The doctor said you were quirkless, stupid deku!"

"The doctor was wrong! Watch! Watch!" He puckered his lips and a small tongue of flame emerged from between them. "And that's not it!" He pointed at a stunned Kacchan and a small gust of wind ruffled his hair. "I can do that, too! Mama said it's just like gramma's!"

"That's- you- You're still not better than me!"

"I know!" said Izuku, cheerfully.

"Hm, I don't know," said another one of the students watching, "Deku can do two things, and Bakugo just explodes..."

Bakugo's shriek of rage was audible throughout the entire preschool.

.

"Two quirks, Dad? Two? TWO? After everything you drilled into my head about how dangerous it was to give people multiple quirks? What were you thinking?" demanded Inko.

"Hardly anyone dies from just two quirks," said All for One, "and he retained the family adaptation for accepting multiple quirks, the risk was-"

"Not. Yours. To. Take." Inko punctuated each word with a jab to the chest, then sat down heavily in the nearest chair. "I hope you understand. I am furious with you."

"Inko, princess-"

Inko held up her hand. "No. If I see Izuku with another quirk, I will kill you. Do you understand? No warning, no third chances. If you're a threat to my son, you're dead."

"Perfectly," said All for One, choosing not to mention the longevity quirks all three of them had.

.

Watching illegally obtained footage of his grandson's entrance exam was and excellent way to unwind after a long and stressful day of being unspeakably evil.

Right up until the part where Izuku destroyed a giant robot by punching it to bits.

The heartrate monitor he was attached to unhelpfully informed him that his had skyrocketed. He had never told Inko about One for All. The entrance exam had taken place hours ago.

"Kurogiri!" he called. "Kurogiri?"

No response.

"Hello, Dad."

.

Izuku's acceptance into UA was marred by news of his grandfather's sudden death. He had been getting older, but he always sounded so full of life when they talked on the phone.

After the service, Izuku lingered by the grave. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a small booklet, a copy of a vintage comic his grandfather had gotten him into. He put it down by the headstone.

"I was always too embarrassed to tell you this," he said, softly, "but the real reason I started to want to be a hero... it wasn't that old All Might video. It was this." He tapped the cover of the comic. "The way the hero never gave up..." Izuku sniffed. "It was just really inspiring." He wiped tears away from his face. "I'll make you proud. I promise. I'll be the best hero there ever was!"

.

In America, a woman named Morticia Roll paused. Her rather niche quirk was the ability to know who would be spinning in their graves the most, if people were able to spin in their graves.

Most of the time, that honor belonged to some random European dude. But Shigaraki Hiroshi sounded Asian... She shrugged and went back to her gardening. Whatever was happening, it wasn't any of her business.

[t0rture-me]

little drabble of smth i'd like to write more of! if i continue with this story, be warned that it will include many of the normal whump stuff i write but will likely also include noncon and stuff like that. just wanted to add that warning right in the beginning! this chapter is clean tho!

[TW guns, threat of death, i think that's it? lmk if i should tag anything else!]

It was a simple job. It was supposed to be a simple job. Get in, steal some files, get out. Easy. Roman had done it a million times before without fail, so why now were they frozen in place with a gun to the back of their head?

"Well, well, it seems I have a surprise guest. You could've used the front door, darling, I just love company. And-" He paused, "I really hate dirt getting tracked in. I would've preferred you took your shoes off. You're filthy."

"Oh, my mistake. I thought the window would be quieter. I didn't want to wake you, you understand." Roman bit back, their hands raised to show they were unarmed, the files still sitting tightly in their right hand.

"Very funny, but I'm done joking. Put those down and tell me who sent you. Now." He said, the threat punctuated by the gun pushing further into the base of their skull.

"I'm not entirely sure what you're talking about." The muzzle dug in even further, pushing their head forward and Roman could feel their shoulders tense.

"Don't play coy, honey. It's not a good look on you. Last chance. Put. Them. Down." Slowly, Roman put the folders on the desk they were standing next to. "There, that wasn't so hard was it? Now- Who do you work for?"

"I don't-"

Roman fell to the floor, the back of their head throbbing from getting pistol-whipped. They groaned and tried to push themself off the ground before a crisp, polished shoe pushed down on their back.

"Wrong answer. Real shame, I hate killing my guests, but honestly. I told you it was your last chance and you wasted it." The gun cocked above them, the click nearly echoing through the room.

"Wait- wait, wait, listen-" Roman gasped, "All my work is anonymous, I swear, I don't know. Truly, I don't know."

"Do you think I'm stupid, darling?"

"It's the truth, I swear, I'm telling the truth. I did- I did my research before this, I know you're not stupid, it's the truth. You weren't supposed to be here, I-"

"Shut it." He cut them off. "You did your research on me? And you still took the job, huh? I see, you don't think I'm stupid, you're just stupid. What were you expecting? Gonna waltz right into my home and waltz right back out?"

"I-"

"I told you to shut the fuck up." His foot pressed harder onto their back. Roman wheezed, the weight pushing the air from their lungs. The weight shifted lower as he knelt down, his knee digging into the small of their back and his free hand carding through their hair before wrenching it back violently. "You're gonna regret taking this job, little thief."

bonus picrews! you can tell who is who lol

[mysticstronomy]

HOW DOES TIME WORK IN SPACE??

Blog#81

Wednesday, April 21st,2021

Welcome back,

We customarily consider time something straightforward and crucial. It streams consistently, free of all the other things, from the past to the future, estimated by clocks and watches. Throughout time, the occasions of the universe succeed each other in a methodical manner: pasts, presents, future. The past is fixed, the future open ... but the entirety of this has ended up being bogus. What we call "time" is a perplexing assortment of constructions, of layers. Under expanding examination, in ever-more prominent profundity, the time has lost layers in a steady progression, piece by piece.

Let’s begin with a simple fact: Time passes faster in the mountains than it does at sea level.

The difference is small, but it can be measured with precision timepieces that you can buy on the internet for a few thousand dollars. With practice, anyone can witness the slowing down of time. With the timepieces of specialized laboratories, researchers can detect this slowing down of time between levels just a few centimeters apart: A clock on the floor runs a little more slowly than one on a table. It is not just the clocks that slow down: Lower down, all processes are slower. Two friends separate, with one of them living in the plains and the other going to live in the mountains. They meet up again years later. The one who has stayed down has lived less, aged less, the mechanism of his cuckoo clock has oscillated fewer times. He has had less time to do things, his plants have grown less, his thoughts have had less time to unfold. Lower down, there is simply less time than at an altitude.

Is this surprising? Perhaps it is. But this is how the world works. Time passes more slowly in some places, more rapidly in others. The surprising thing, perhaps, is that someone understood this slowing down of time a century before we had clocks precise enough to measure it. His name, of course, was Albert Einstein. The ability to understand something before it’s observed is at the heart of scientific thinking. In antiquity, the Greek philosopher Anaximander understood that the sky continues beneath our feet long before ships had circumnavigated the Earth. At the beginning of the modern era, the Polish mathematician and astronomer Copernicus understood the Earth's turns long before astronauts had seen it do so from the moon.

In the course of making such strides, we learn the things that seemed self-evident to us were really no more than prejudices. It seemed obvious the sky was above us and not below; otherwise, the Earth would fall down. It seemed self-evident the Earth did not move; otherwise, it would cause everything to crash. That time passed at the same speed everywhere seemed equally obvious to us. But just as children grow up and discover the world is not as it seemed from within the four walls of their homes, humankind as a whole does the same. What's going on now in a far-off place? Envision, for instance, your sister has gone to Proxima b, the as of late found planet that circles a star around 4 light-years from us. What is your sister doing now on Proxima b?

The lone right answer is that the inquiry has neither rhyme nor reason. It resembles asking, "What is here, in Peking?" when we are in Venice. It has neither rhyme nor reason, since, supposing that I utilize "here" in Venice, I'm alluding to a spot in Venice, not in Peking.

On the off chance that you ask what your sister, who is in the room with you, is doing now, the appropriate response is generally a simple one: You take a gander at her, and you can tell. On the off chance that she's distant, you telephone her and ask what she's doing. Yet, be careful: In the event that you take a gander at your sister, you're accepting light that ventures out from her to your eyes. That light sets aside some effort to contact you — suppose a couple of nanoseconds, a minuscule part of a second. Thusly, you're not exactly seeing what she's doing now yet the thing she was doing a couple of nanoseconds prior.

On the off chance that she's in New York and you telephone her from Liverpool, her voice takes a couple of milliseconds to contact you, so the most you can profess to know is the thing that your sister was up to a couple of milliseconds prior. Not a huge distinction, maybe.

What's the significance here, this "alteration of the design of time"? Definitely, the easing back of time portrayed previously. A mass hinders time around itself. The Earth is a huge mass and hinders time in its area. It does so more in the fields and less in the mountains, on the grounds that the fields are nearer to it. This is the reason the companion who stays adrift level ages all the more gradually.

Subsequently, if things fall, it is because of this easing back of time. Where time passes consistently, in interplanetary space, things don't fall — they drift. Here on the outside of our planet, then again, things fall descending on the grounds that, down there, time is eased back by the Earth.

Thus, despite the fact that we can only with significant effort notice it, the easing back of time by and by has vital impacts: Things fall as a result of it, and it permits us to keep our feet immovably on the ground. In the event that our feet cling to the asphalt, it is on the grounds that our entire body slants normally to where time runs all the more gradually — and time passes more gradually for your feet than it accomplishes for your head.

Does this appear to be unusual? It resembles when watching the sunset, vanishing gradually behind removed mists, we abruptly recollect that it's not the sun that is moving but rather the Earth that is turning. Also, we imagine our whole planet — and ourselves with it — turning in reverse, away from the sun.

CREDIT: "THE ORDER OF TIME" Book by CARLO ROVELLI

COMING UP!!

(Saturday, April 24th,2021)

“A FASTER-THAN-LIGHT WARP DRIVE-POWERED SPACESHIP MAY BE POSSIBLE??"

[labarboteuse]

Hi! If it's okay can I request something with Luz? Maybe with the prompt "why are you embarrassed? You're beautiful, don't you see that?" Thank you❤️☺️

Obviously Fran! ❤️ You can ask me what you want! Sorry it took so long to write something, wasn't really here for a long time and now i'm trying to come back and take back everything! Hope you will enjoy this one, i have the feeling i've lost a bit at all of this.

PS: I have absolutely nothing against Sobel, I just needed to make him a bully for the story.

Taglist: @supervalcsi @ourmiraclealigner @iilovemusic12us @tvserie-s-world @50svibes . Let me know if you want to be added.

Qui aime bien châtie bien. (George Luz x reader)

Running the back of her wrist over her forehead to wipe away the few drops of sweat that were beading on it, she let out a breath of exhaustion. This was the third time this month that Sobel had made her clean the latrine. "Don't take it personal.” He had told her a few hours earlier, indicating that she should bring her bucket and broom. When he'd first put her on latrine duty, she'd seen in his shifty little eyes a spark of pleasure at his putting her on that kind of task. But she hadn't paid much attention to it, it was part of the tasks that every soldier had to do, and it would have been wrong to see any form of sexism in it, at least not at first. But as the days, weeks and months went by, she came to understand that Sobel was trying everything he could to get her to give up. The comment he had made, which had made a lot of men laugh when he had first seen her, should have been a warning to her from the start. He did not intend to give her any chance. He thought that she would be unable to cope, that she would be far too weak in the midst of these men, that she would only be a distraction to what he intended to make the best company, and that if by some miracle she did get to the battlefield, he would not give a damn that she would die quickly and take many of her comrades with her.

She leaned against the wooden wall of the shack, which she had been polishing for too long for her taste. The sun had been beating down all afternoon on the small cabin where the heat was stifling, a heat that increased tenfold the odours associated with the place, causing her nausea to which she still hadn't become accustomed despite her numerous cleaning sessions over the months. As she took a deep breath to give herself courage, which she bitterly regretted the next moment, the hurried footsteps of brodequins on the hardened earth were heard. Franck Perconte poked his head through the entrance, out of breath from his run.

"But Y/N, what are you still doing here? Hurry up and get your training gear on, Sobel has summoned the company to run on Currahee!"

"What? What do you mean? Nobody told me!"

Should that have been so surprising? Perconte's apologetic look confirmed to her that it was not a surprise. Her friend wasn't surprised that she hadn't been warned, not participating in this sudden and precipitous training session would have given Sobel a good reason to sanction her, make her run alone at night on Currahee, take away her permissions, assign her various chores for which she would have missed other trainings and which would have given him reason to kick her out under the pretext that she would never be up to it and that she lacked investment and seriousness.

"Thanks for the warning Perco, I'll be right there."

Frank nodded and left as quickly as he could to get back to the ranks before his absence was noticed and he was sanctioned too. Y/N hurriedly put her broom and bucket away in the corner of the barracks before running back to her dormitory to put on her training gear. She ran so fast to join the departing company that she thought her heart would burst from her chest. When she arrived, Sobel's back was turned and she quickly moved to the back row next to Hoobler, who quickly signalled to her that the lace on her boot had come undone in her run. She quickly bent down to do so and stood up again just as Sobel turned around. He looked around at the recruits with a sly little smile on his face as he saw that his little black sheep was missing, but to his dismay that little grin evaporated when he saw her at the back of the ranks. Y/N and Hoobler both held back a smile as they saw the framer's face break down.

"Y/L/N! Glad to see you're honouring us with your presence, but the assembly time was scheduled ten minutes ago. You'll be doing two more laps than your classmates for being late."

She gritted her teeth and showed no reaction which would have gave him far too much satisfaction and just hated him inwardly. Herbet Sobel was enjoying giving her a hard time, good for him, but as he congratulated himself for pushing her further and further out, he had no idea that the relentlessness towards her was only fuelling her inner hatred and that this was what would give her the energy and perseverance to redouble her efforts and show him that he was wrong about her. It didn't matter what state Y/N would come out of that training camp in, as long as she would come out of as US Army paratrooper.

Despite the majority of macho and sexist men who made up the units at Toccoa, Y/N had found herself well surrounded. Some of her dorm mates had become true friends to her, while others were suspicious, and the last part didn't really care, which didn't offend her at all, since she would have liked them all to act that way.

It was always the same bunch that ended up in the middle of the row when they were running on Currahee, Y/N, Hoobler, Skip, Penkala and Malarkey. They had all quickly understood that they should not run too fast so as not to suffocate in the first kilometre and finish the race on their knees, and not drag too much so as not to suffer the wrath of Sobel on the latecomers in the last row.

Blended into the mass that was the company, they managed to help each other without being noticed when one of them was weak or not feeling well, because they, like all the others, had understood what Sobel did not seem to understand until then, that it was their unity that would take them to the top and help them through the horrors that awaited them.

When she reached the top of the mountain, she ignored Sobel, who was yelling at every soldier that he was too weak to make it back to camp, and descended in a flash when her foot landed crookedly on a piece of rock sticking out of the ground and her ankle twisted sharply. Donald, who was still following closely behind her, ready to cover her friend's back, caught her before she lost her balance and fell in pain, and no one noticed the incident. She bit her lip and clenched her teeth, thinking how she would be able to do two more climbs with one less ankle. Fortunately, the support of her friends taking turns to help her get back to camp allowed her to save a minimum of effort so that she could at least leave as if nothing had happened when Sobel ordered her to, and she silently thanked the heavens that he hadn't been around on their return to the camp.

The soldiers gradually returned one after the other, encouraging them to reform the ranks as they went along. She then moved back to the back to hide her wound and leaned on her left foot to relieve the right one, she enjoyed these few moments of respite until the company was complete, Sobel back with the rest of them. After checking that the canteens were still full, he looked around for Y/N ready to give her her punishment.

"Y/L/N! What are you still doing here, I thought you had two more turns than your comrades!"

Y/N then broke away from the ranks to go back, it took a superhuman effort not to show she was in pain and tried to go back as naturally as possible, each step, each stride making the pain unbearable.

"And don't try to drag it out! I know exactly how long it will take you to get up and down that hill. Try to fool me and you will be sent home with immediate effect!" He shouted at her as she walked away and before dissolving the ranks.

Her four friends watched her walk away with concern in their eyes. They stood there torn between joining her and defying Sobel's orders or leaving her alone to face her punishment, for which she had done nothing to deserve. They knew that she would have yelled at them for taking such a risk, that there was no way they would put their place here in danger to help her. As they stood there waiting for Sobel to disappear to give them free rein, Joe and Luz approached them with questioning looks.

"What are you waiting for?" Joe asked as he approached them and looked in the same direction.

"We can't leave her like this, she might not even make it to the bottom of the hill.” Skip said, turning to his comrades.

"Sobel took a dislike on her, do you want to be in his sights too?"

Malarkey glanced at Joe with a frown. "Since when do you play it solo, if it had been any of us you would have gone along without worrying about him."

Alex glanced up at the sky, which was darkening with the arrival of evening.

"It's going to be dark soon and it looks like it's going to start raining, that might put her in more trouble if the ground is muddy."

"Why more trouble?" asked George who no one had heard yet, his cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

"She hurt her ankle on the way down earlier. You don't have to be a doctor to know it's going to get worse if she keeps running."

"So what are we waiting for?" George replied, throwing his cigarette to the ground. "We're all supposed to stick together, we're not leaving anyone behind."

George bent down to tighten the shoelaces of his boots and started trotting towards the mountain, his comrades on his heels. Since their arrival at the camp the only contact he had had with Y/N was the jokes he threw at her, in all innocence of course, and to which she always replied vigorously and without lack of repartee. His attitude towards her hid a certain attraction for her.  Doesn't the saying go, " Spare the rod and spoil the child.” Her strength of character, her unfailing optimism, her humour and her ability to adapt to an environment that was hostile to her made him feel a certain admiration for this force of nature who never lost her smile no matter what anyone might do to push her over the edge. He'd never really tried anything other than the camaraderie approach, because underneath his extroverted clown exterior, the idea of getting close to his fellow girl he had a crush on terrified him. And he had no idea how to do it other than to tease her, which she could get very tired of.

 

Barely past the line of trees leading to the path in the woods, Y/N slowed her pace, her ankle aching horribly. She had given everything she could to move forward at a near-normal pace, but now she found herself hobbling along, any extra strength having left her. She could have simply told Sobel that she had hurt herself in training, and as much as she hated him, he wouldn't have gone so far as to force those extra climbs on her, or maybe he would have? She recognised that on this occasion her pride had prevailed, it would have been out of the question to give him another reason to devalue her, she was just as good as the others.

As she dragged her leg, she decided to take a break, just a few seconds, the time to take her foot off the ground to release all the pressure on her ankle and give herself a tiny rest. She closed her eyes, holding back the tears that were threatening to fall, although she could have opened the floodgates, no one was there to see her do it. As she enjoyed the surrounding silence for a moment and the cool breeze on her face, she felt a drop of water roll down her cheek and opened her eyes again when a rumbling sound was heard and a cool rain suddenly fell on her. Given the weather of the last few days it was not surprising that a storm would eventually break out. She sighed and set off again, trying to trot along as best she could, thinking of anything that would make her forget the pain. She relived the scene at dinner when she had told her parents and brothers that she wanted to join the army. The silence that had followed, the news making everyone at the table lose their words, a new thunderous roar resounded at the exact moment she saw her father pounding his fist on the table. This time none of her brothers stood up for her and encouraged her in what she wanted to do. When she finally felt water running down her cheeks she couldn't tell if it was rain, her tears or both. And as she felt them streaming down her face she saw the tears rolling down her mother's cheeks again.

  "You are totally unconscious!" Her father shouted as she said nothing, her hands on her knees, staring at her plate, her mother's hand slipping to the tablecloth beside her to reach for her hand and convince her only daughter not to join.

"A woman's place is not in the war! What would you do there? The intensity of the training and the horrors that await you there are not for a woman!” She had then raised her head, leapt to her feet, straight as an i, confronting her father.

"You don't think I can do it? Why should we have balls to fight for our country? I am a citizen of it as much as any man who populates it!"

"Y /N!" She had never spoken like that before, least of all to her father. She looked at her mother who had just exclaimed, then at her brothers, none of whom reacted, although they had always been on her side.

She remembered the look on her father's face, he had never answered that question, but what he showed on his face spoke for him. Lost in her thoughts she hadn't noticed the rain coming down harder and harder, she had even forgotten the pain until she stepped into a muddy hole and stumbled, falling to her knees, hands out, sinking into the mud. She realised that perhaps her father, Sobel, and the army in general were right, perhaps she really was incapable of going all the way, that she should have stayed at home, and joined the war effort like any other woman willing to help her country, in a factory or office or nursing the brave soldiers who were defending their country.

When training is too intense, there is bound to come a time when doubts creep in, motivation wanes and fatigue and lack of energy can make you regret even the most sensible choice. To hell with what they might say if she stopped now, if she decided to, it would all end now, in just a few days she would be back home, among her own kind, comfortably warm.

Still on her knees she pulled her hands out of the mud and looked down at her mud-covered legs and shirt, she ran the back of her hand over her cheek to wipe away the few tears, which at the same time smeared the mud splattered on her face as she fell. Finally she sat down to loosen her boot which was too tight on her sore ankle.

 "Y/N!!!" She looked up and saw a small group of men trotting in the distance. Her heart sank as she saw her friends running towards her, they had not abandoned her and she was surprised to see that Liebgott and Luz had joined her rescue group.

The latter, once he had reached her height, squatted down in front of her with a small smile on his face.

"So Y/L/N, you can't stand on your legs?"

This had the merit of making her smile. Two strands of hair were stuck to his forehead, wet from the rain, she found herself looking at every detail of his face, she had never really paid much attention to George, they teased each other a few times but she had never seen more, but now that he was there, in front of her, only a few inches away, she scanned him, asking if she was alright and looking at her wound, and she found him extremely beautiful. When she realised what she was thinking she looked down and was confronted with her appearance. Suddenly she felt very embarrassed, wounded like a fragile animal collapsed on the ground, full of mud, she did not look good.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a hand come up to her face and place a lock of hair behind her ear, she didn't even dare to imagine the look on her face, it was ridiculous.

"Why are you embarrassed? You're beautiful, don't you see that?"

"Stop being so charming Luz, we have to get her up and get her back to camp." Donald joked, before settling back into a serious tone.

Y/N was very fond of her friends, and while she was grateful that they were coming to her rescue, at this moment she wished they weren't here, or else mute. George chuckled and put an arm around her waist and then another under her knees ready to lift her up.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm helping you up, and you look bad enough to walk home."

"No, no no no. If Sobel sees you you'll all be thrown out!"

The men giggled as they found their friend there.

"Just say thanks." Alex said and winked at her.

"We're a team now, we don't leave anyone behind." Muck interjected.

"You really think he's still waiting there. He'll get Winters to report back to him, when he understands the situation he'll cover for us."

"You will be in trouble because of me. Maybe he was right after all..” Her voice lowered and she looked down. Malarkey gently squeezed her arm as if to comfort her before adding, "It could have been anyone, and we would have done the same. Don't let him devalue you, you're as strong as any of us, more so.

She looked at each of them in turn, realising how lucky she was to have been assigned to a company like Easy, and despite what Sobel might has put her through she wouldn't trade her place for anything. Knowing that it was because of men like them that she would have the chance to show what she was really worth, and that she was proud to be able to be part of a group of individuals like these.

As they walked back to the camp, her arms around the back of George's neck, he tightened the embrace, she turned her head towards him ready to tell him to put her down, aware that she must be quite heavy and was surprised at the smile that stretched his lips.

"Why are you smiling like that?"

He said nothing for a moment and let out a small chuckle.

"You know what, I think I like you Y/L/N." This earned a chuckle from the others before Joe added; "Poor thing, if she's going to be your constant target that's no gift."

Y/N didn't react and just turned her head and looked ahead, hiding the small smile she couldn't contain. Not suspecting that, although well surrounded, it was one man in particular who would watch over her more than anyone else for many years to come.

[bored-storyteller]

Dear Anon, sorry if I can't do the screen of your request :3 anyway I hope you like it

Warning: mention of violence and blood (nothing too bloody I think)

45- Tokyo Ghoul, Uta x human!Reader

“Natural”

That's your favorite time of the day. When you sit at the table in the hot cafeteria, with the steam of the sweet boiling drink in your nostrils, the warmth of the discreetly attended but not too noisy environment and your faithful sketchbook open on the polished wooden shelf. The first blank page available looks at you, waiting to become your world, your dreams.

You are particularly lucky today; he is there.

When you entered he was already sitting at the bar, sipping a black coffee. He doesn't come every day, nor does he always arrive at the same time, but when you find him you know he will stay a long time.

You don't know his name - or at least you shouldn't know, it's not nice to overhear conversations - you don't know who he is, you just know that the first time something entered him it made you hold your breath. You don't even know what has caused you so much upset at a simple glance; it's not his extravagant style, it's not his piercings or his intricate tattoos. They are not even his strange and sometimes scary eyes. They are not those caressing, sweet and persuasive ways with which he seems to behave as usual, and not even the calm ironic words he occasionally addresses to the one who serves behind the counter. No, it's none of this, or maybe it's all this, but you don't know it, you can't understand it.

Today he smiled at you. The place wasn't too crowded, and his look had turned to you at the chirping of the bell. How bizarre as a face that threatens so much aggression it is capable of such delicacy.

You wonder if he knows how much your eyes touch him every time you meet him. Maybe yes, but he doesn't really care.

His decorated fingers are absent-mindedly tucked into the handle of the cup, his hair today is gathered in a rather messy half-ponytail. You don't know if he did it on purpose or if he just didn't pay much attention to it.

For a second you get lost following his profile line. His lips are slightly parted, he is listening.

You choose to seize the moment, and your freshly sharpened pencil glides over the slightly textured paper, sketching indefinite sketches. You have plenty of time to improve them.

You don't really remember since you started drawing Uta - as the man in the coffee shop calls him, and for you he is the only reference you can rely on - only, suddenly the block that had taken possession of your artistic skills was suddenly loose. Whoever that man was, you wanted to draw him.

From there, his face started to appear more and more often in your drawings, and from there he started to inspire you, he started to make you imagine.

"Beautiful, he is really beautiful." You thought immediately, and at the beginning it was nothing more. Then, slowly, over time that "beautiful" had extended beyond his physical boundary, also touching his attitude, his voice, his expressions.

You never really talked to him - out of shyness, or maybe not to break that magic - but it's not important. That's okay, you've started to get attached to him, you've begun to hope that he can be okay, that he can be happy, and it doesn't matter who he is or who he isn't. His mere presence has given you so much.

Today it is a coincidence that you and he get up at the same time from your respective seats. He surely didn't notice, and neither did you, as you put your sketchbook back in your bag.

It is not rush hour, and even if you are far away you can see him well. He is so calm, while he keeps his balance clinging effortlessly to the steel tube. His eyes look beyond the glass, although there is little to see. But maybe they see much more? You wonder what he is thinking, what can a person like him think? Who knows how he lives, you wouldn't even know how to attribute a precise age to him.

He is quicker than you to get out, and you are still settling your bill. It's not like you want to chase him, you're not a stalker or a maniac, but he's right in front of you. It is a coincidence. It is also a coincidence when he takes the subway with you.

Your stop passes by, and this time it is no coincidence.

Shinjuku is his station, apparently. Yes, it suits him, it's a suitable environment for him, at least you think. The frenetic lights and noises make the neighborhood alive even in the evening dusk. It is not a bad place to pass the time, it is full of attractions, activities and culture.

You feel a bit dirty following him like this, but it's not something you can really command. You just want to know who he is, your muse. You would like to be close to him, you would like to ask him questions, but at the same time you are afraid. You are afraid of seeing him disappear, scared of you. Who will fill your blank pages if he leaves? But how come you could justify your behavior towards him? Would he ever understand the beauty he represents for your artist eyes?

When he disappears among the people it's not that big of a problem. You don't want to interfere in his business, after all you just wanted to have him close a little longer, at least close to your eyes.

But even if you didn't see him anymore, you didn't regret having extended your trip a little. Tokyo could inspire an artist more than people thought, and your sketchbook is back in your hands, to sketch what came to you - and from time to time to look back at that face that is taking shape more and more. below the details you have come to know by now.

There, in that district of the capital, if you take enough alleys and go down enough steps, you can reach hidden areas away from the eyes of tourists. Sure, they might seem insignificant and at times creepy, but for someone like you the small traditional shop on the corner, or the writing on the wall that would be poorly tolerated in the city center, has such a particular charm, so intense that it makes you imagine stories, and eyes that never existed.

And it is while the graphite of your pencil draws more or less regular shadows on a creature that looks so much like that tabby cat looking for food in the alley, that something makes your blood run cold.

A cry, a cry of terror. It was sharp, scratchy, but immediately suffocated, or rather, broken.

And it is then that looking up to the sky you see the night. It is not the case for someone like you to be in those areas with darkness that has fallen.

And that's why you don't bother thinking about that scream, you just think about going back through those alleys, and as quickly as possible.

But for you the world is bigger than for any human being, and your feet stop, your breath freezes in your chest.

There is no light, you are alone, but taking refuge behind the wall like a mouse, your eyes too used to observing see it immediately.

Him. It's him. Him, and his eyes light up hot. In the light glow of the moon and the flickering artificial lights you can see blood-colored veins that like roots mark his nocturnal sclera up to affect the pale skin.

His arms always dyed with black weaves are now covered in red, as are his hungry lips, his face up to his nose.

You know perfectly well what is happening, you know that that mass of flesh at his feet is a man he has just killed, to devour him.

You know what he is, and it scares you. How could it not? Yet it is precisely that fear that inspires you, that makes you take the figure of him in the dim light. As many details as possible are frantically marked on the paper, everything you need to remember.

"Beautiful" is everything your confused and terrified mind can think as you start running unaware of the fact that he saw you - or rather, he smelled you -, but luckily for you too late. . . .

"I don't know anything about it."

You don't know if actually the case those investigators are investigating is actually the killing - or the post-killing - you witnessed, but it doesn't really matter. Your words come out with such an ease that you are amazed too.

You wonder which god is angry with you for letting you cross their path and their eyes, is it your punishment for asking for help?

Maybe wandering around the back streets of Shinjuku makes you suspicious? Probably. But it doesn't matter, you really don't know anything. You are ready to forget everything in order to protect him. You can not miss it. He is your subject, your art.

You hold your sketchbook to your chest, protective.

"I didn't know there were ghouls in the area… is it really that dangerous?" It's not that you like to lie, but the more you can mislead those people, the more you can avoid danger to him, so don't blame yourself. It's the right thing, it's right that he has the chance to live.

"We don't have precise information, but it would be better not to wander alone in such isolated places, especially if the day is ending."

Looking up at the sky you realize that the sky is slowly turning on the evening colors. Who knows what you really expected. Were you seriously hoping to find him? Maybe Shinjuku was just a stop for him that day. Or maybe you are the cause why you don't come across him anymore, not even at the cafeteria.

“Now that I know, I'll try to be careful. I'll finish quickly and go home right away. "

The man in front of you smiles, his eyes scan the surroundings come to make sure you are safe: "Well, if you see something strange, even a suspicious trace, please contact us."

You agree. He gives you the impression of a good-hearted man, that agent, and you silently thank him as he and his companions walk away from you.

The world is cruel. It is cruel, but you don't even know in what respect, because it can be so cruel and so generous at the same time. So kind and so unfair.

And while in solitude your free mind wanders among those thoughts, something makes you quickly return to the ground, rushes you, crushes you.

A stabbing pain takes you to the right side of your body, like a burning fire throbs and quivers in your torn muscles, starting from the hollow between the neck and shoulder.

You would scream, but you are prevented, because a cold hand presses on your lips forcefully.

You don't really think about what's happening, you don't have time to think. All you can do is wriggle desperately, even though the strength holding you back is far superior to yours.

That pain repeats itself, more overwhelming on the open wound, and this time you can at least turn around in the arms of torture. And everything stops.

His beautiful face, the face you searched for so intensely is there, a few inches from yours. His eyes look at you, they scan you. His tongue licks your blood and his arms tighten you against him to keep you from running away.

Have you ever had him so close? Do not you think. You don't think he has ever looked at you as directly as he is doing right now.

But you don't have time, you have no way of thinking. The blood slips away, your eyesight darkens and your body loses sensitivity with every passing second.

The world is so kind to grant you that closeness, and so cruel to give you so little time to enjoy what you have so desired.

"Beautiful ..." You manage to murmur, and maybe that's really all you want to tell him. Your hand rests cold and delicate on his face, touching his pale cheek. His night-colored tuft lightly tickles your numb knuckles, and his confused gaze is the last thing you see. . . .

How long hadn't anyone caressed him like that? Had anyone ever caressed him like that?

Uta hadn't really looked for you, even though he recognized you, for some reason he just avoided meeting you again. It was the riskiest choice for him, yet he had subconsciously decided to give you that chance, to the little artist in the coffee shop.

But you were there, so close to him, in his domain. He had smelled you, so what could he do?

Yet you weren't behaving like everyone else. He didn't believe he could see such warmth in human eyes, ready to give in to forced sleep, and the bite had been held back. He still feels the sweetness and tenderness of your flesh running down his throat, but he has held back from giving you the coup de grace. A sign of respect for an artist like him? Or just too risky curiosity?

And your hand moved away from him too soon, slumping along his arm with a dead weight.

From your chest your black-covered notebook slips to the ground, you had held it tight all the time despite your injured shoulder.

His pupils scrutinize the object with distrust and curiosity. Probably he should kill you before he feels free to browse, yet now he is there, bent over. His long moon fingers and night-colored interlacing turn the pages with a light and quick gesture.

There are drawings of animals, people, objects. You're good, really good, he likes your style.

But that is not all. He could have foreseen it, he could have suspected since your eyes touched him so much, yet it was as if in his vision this was impossible. Despite this impossibility, one's face looks at him, and turning the page it is still there, only from another point of view. There are drawings of him in every perspective, with expressions that not even he realizes he has - probably no one has ever noticed -; some portraits are detailed, some are colored, some are just sketches that, despite everything, reflect him, while still others are started and never finished, deleted and thrown away as errors.

He is really beautiful.

You even wrote it down. You have written a lot, you have taken note of the details of him.

Uta doesn't know how he actually feels. How is he feeling? He feels a shyness on him that is not his own. Is it embarrassment? Maybe, in part. In part it's confusion, and in part ... how long hasn't someone considered him with the tenderness with which you did? You had watched him from afar for so long, and so intensely.

He obviously understood your interest, every time he greeted you cordially it was a confirmation, but he didn't think there was such a stupid sincerity in your feelings.

As he continues to turn the cream-colored pages, he notices that some pages are torn. He doesn't really give weight to them, he also does it when a work of his does not satisfy him, despite your mistakes being present several times in the notebook.

The last page is still him, he is smiling. He wonders if he really smiles like that. He looks really handsome, and he doesn't know if he's real or your eyes have affected that image to make his face so kind and serene.

A soft sigh blows between his lips as he closes your treasure. Yet, before he can complete the action, something blocks him.

On the bottom, on the hard cover, the internal part reproduces the black of the external facade. He probably wouldn't have noticed anything strange if his eye wasn't used to being attentive.

Sticking his fingers into the crack under that black, he manages to retrieve a slightly protruding sheet, one of the sheets you tore.

On paper, the dark traces form his figure again, but this time something is different. He is different.

He is a ghoul in that drawing. He is bent over his victim, his placid face stained with blood, like his arms. He is imposing above the figure you have represented in the shadow.

Yet despite this, he is not ugly or cruel. You made it beautiful anyway, natural. Yes, you simply grasped his nature, you grasped the beauty in his nature and brought it back to paper, as a work of art.

It's not finished yet, his critical eye saw it well. Maybe that's why you hid it? Why were you dying to complete it during your days, to always have it with you, but were you afraid it would be discovered? Did you tear up so many pages for this? To deprive prying eyes of discovering his nature through your drawings?

Honestly, were you really protecting him, in your own way?

He had distractedly heard you talking to the Doves, and hadn't given it any weight - always because it was impossible, in his eyes - but now, in front of himself so sweetly admired by your shy eyes, he can't help admitting that something it moves in his stomach, like agitated butterflies.

Perhaps it is the interest in having been made a work of art by such skilled hands, or a sense of esteem that overwhelms him when he realizes that he is in front of a skilled artist, or perhaps, deep down, it is a simple motion of affection he can't help but feel for amazing human beings like you. Even while he was killing you, you didn't speak out against him. You are stranger than Tsugumi.

Uta may be crazy, but he is not insensitive, on the contrary, it is his sensitivity that makes him so uncomfortable in the world.

He feels you tremble and suddenly remembers he has you in his arms. He hadn't noticed that he had kept you with such care; your lifeless head, resting on his chest, rises and falls to the rhythm of his breaths.

Look at your suffering face, in his lap you are getting colder and colder and the nectarine blood continues to dirty both your clothes and his.

You can die, but the wounds he inflicted on you are not fatal in themselves - luckily -.

Will you forgive him for tasting your body? Probably yes. He doesn't know you, but he has already understood you, and now he wants to understand more. . . .

The warmth envelops you, all you perceive is a warm and placid relief.

Your clouded mind only asks you one question: "Are you dead?"

You don't really know why you should be, you just know that there is that possibility. Yet, slowly, a physicality settles on you, making you return to earth, away from the world of ideas.

Your fingers barely move and your sensitivity feels warmth and softness. The shoulder burns.

Your eyelids vibrate before venturing to lift again wondering if you really are living.

The light is dim, the environment is unfamiliar to you and yet you perceive something you know, even if you don't really know what it is. A sensation? A smell?

"Hey…"

A gentle, light, friendly voice. Maybe it's a bit hypocritical of him, but what does it matter to you? You're probably dreaming, he really killed you and that's your hell. It's not that bad if you can spend your pains admiring him.

His blood-colored and strawberry-colored eyes scan you attentively, there is no threat in his features, only a barely hinted smile, a smile that you adore, and a greeting from him that for some reason makes your rhythm pick up again your heart: "Good morning."

[seacottons]

steel heart: — [ soulmate au ]

pairing: kang yeosang x reader

wc: 5k

genre: trash

notes: some swearing. set in wave-era. the early 90s? this was supposed be a long, slow-burn kinda fic, but in my defense i suck ass at strangers-to-lovers, so. yes. not proofread bc idc.

summary: yeosang took joy in pickpocketing all of the naive tourists in town, until he realized he stole his soulmate’s wallet.

The pads of your fingers gently brushed along the row of cat food cans, your orbs flickering to each one as you squinted in concentration. Picking a can up, you observed it curiously and failed to notice a shadow loom over your figure from behind. A hand grasping a can above your head startled you, and you swiftly turned to glare at the person invading your personal bubble.

The stranger paid you no mind as he walked away, can in one hand and skateboard in the other. You scoffed, opting to silently glare holes into his back before turning around to continue your search, vehemently spitting out, "Rude jerk."

After filling your cart with all the necessities, you made yourself over to the checkout. You fished for your wallet from your bag, brows furrowing in confusion whilst failing to locate it. You were absolutely certain you didn't leave it at home.

Your felt your stomach practically drop at the memory of the man, head snapping up to glance around your surroundings frantically. Was he still here? Had he taken it? Had you accidentally dropped it somewhere in the store?

With an embarrassed smile, you hastily explained your situation to the unamused cashier and excused yourself to take a look around the store. Half an hour ticked by, and you're sure you've looked through every aisle about three times each, but your wallet was nowhere to be seen.

And to think your new life here was sailing smoothly.

Trudging back home begrudgingly, you made a silent note about the man's appearance. It didn't help that you only caught a glimpse of his backside, but you only had chestnut brown hair and a skateboard to work with. It wasn't much, but it was something at least.

"Don't give me that look," you scolded your cat gently, "I'll bring you tuna another day."

The gray feline gave you a blank stare before curling against the windowsill.

In all the days he's lived, Yeosang thinks today is most likely his worst. He pays no mind to the scrambling and angry Seonghwa, who is trudging around the house with an apron and gloves, grumbling (read: yelling) to himself about how the place looks like 'a disgusting man-cave that even a pig would be ashamed of'. Sure, the coffee table and kitchen were always littered with half-drunk, chipped coffee mugs, used tissues, torn magazines, San's cat treats, and random phone chargers, but in all honesty, it wasn't that bad.

Also, Yeosang had a major headache, and Seonghwa's nagging really didn't do anyone any favor. And quite frankly, he didn't give a rat's ass; He had other important matters to attend to.

"Wow," a loud laugh rings throughout the large living room, "You've royally fucked up this time, haven't you?"

"Who fucked up?" Mingi asks from the kitchen. He carefully stirs a pot of noodles while his blue haired companion stares impatiently from over his shoulder. If the lack of hygiene didn't kill them, it'll be the sodium instead. That, or San's crumb-filled, backwash water bottles.

"Yeosang fucked up," Wooyoung replies in amusement at his friend's dismay. The brunette picks his head up and gives the laughing boy a menacing look.

"Shut up," he grumbles, a hand running through his locks in frustration, "They don't need to know."

"What don't we need to know?"

As if on cue, a redhead plops down onto the sofa beside Wooyoung and a snickering San. There's some suspicion in the tone of his voice, and Yeosang doesn't like it. Hongjoong peers at the two in question, his eyes then studying the look of betrayal on Yeosang's features.

The brunette bristles angrily from his spot, "Don't say it-"

"Yeosang apparently stole a wallet," Jongho mumbles quietly from his spot on the floor. He squints in concentration at the word puzzle below him, not paying the older boys any mind.

Hongjoong quirks a brow, not quite understanding, "Okay? But doesn't he do that daily? What's the problem?"

Yeosang shifts his annoyed glare to the giggling San.

"Apparently, the wallet belongs to his soulmate," San smiles deviously, quickly snatching the brown leather item from the coffee table to showcase to Hongjoong, "See? Same birthmark and all."

Hongjoong's eyes widen as he assesses the identification card within the wallet, his jaw going slack.

Mingi noisily slurps his noodles while entering the living room, Yunho trailing behind him not too long after, "Oh, wow. Yeosang really did fuck up this time," he says with a mouthful of noodles. He and the blue haired male share a look of amusement, before both erupting into fits of laughter.

The brunette dropped his head once more into the safety of his arms, shoulders slumping in defeat at the sound of the other boys' laughter, "Why me?"

Another week and another paycheck later, you finally had enough for a recent trip to the market. You peered down at your work attire, grimacing at the embarrassing sight of red sauce stains. It'll be a quick run, so maybe nobody will take notice.

Grabbing a few cans of cat food and other items, you grimaced at the heavy weight of the hand cart straining your muscles. You sighed gently, turning to walk into another aisle when a blur of man invaded your vision. A heavy weight sent you flying to the floor, the items in your cart spilling and rolling down the aisle as the stranger groaned atop of your frame.

"Shit, I'm sorry-"

Your mind took a few extra seconds to process just exactly what occurred, and when you blearily took note of the flipped skateboard to your left and the mop of brown hair invading your vision.

A pair of wide eyed brown eyes met your own, and you silently gaped at the handsome stranger sprawled on top of you. You gaze at him as if you truly saw the sun for the first time, utterly captivated by the way his eyes widen ever so slightly. Swallowing thickly at the close proximity and the soft puffs of his breath fanning your burning face, you study his features intently, "Oh, wow.. you're.."

You really don't think you've ever seen a man as handsome-

You suddenly gasped.

"You!"

The man hastily sat up, eyes wide and mouth agape as he wordlessly took in your disheveled appearance. Before he had the chance to open his mouth for an apology, you fisted the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to assert dominance, "You took my wallet, didn't you?"

Instead of replying, he casually brushed the hair from your face and leaned forward to gaze at your left eye, his own widening at the sudden sight. You hastily slapped his hand away with a scoff of disbelief, "What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Your birthmark.."

He suddenly snapped out of his train of thought, eyeing you in mild amusement while digging into his back pocket for an item. When you caught sight of the familiar brown leather of your wallet, you released a gasp of disbelief, giving him an accusatory look of anger, "I knew it!"

"I was looking for you actually- to return it," he curtly started, brows quirking up as you quickly snatched it from his hands. He gives you a brief glance, a glint of amusement in his eyes, before he stands and offers you a hand, to which you stubbornly ignore. You hurriedly stand and save the small crumb of dignity you have left. You quickly study the inside of your wallet, brows knitting in confusion at the untouched money.

"Cut the bullshit," you scoffed, dusting your uniform and shooting him an unamused stare, "You stole it—" you blinked down at the skateboard before returning your hard stare at the male, "Who even rides that thing inside- I- nevermind."

You ignored his attempt at helping you pick up your items off the floor, defensively snatching the canned goods from his hands, "I don't need your help! You've done more than enough!"

"I'm Yeosang," he hesitantly offered his hand. He towered over your frame with an awkward smile.

"Yeah? And I don't care," you grumbled, turning away to saunter off to the cashier. The smile instantly vanished from his features, and he reached over to grasp your elbow.

"Wait-" he calls after you, "Give me a minute to explain!" He tugs you back, and you nearly stumble against his chest.

In all fairness, you've just found the thief who stole your wallet, and you quite frankly don't think he deserves any form of respect whatsoever.

You attempt to wrench your arm from his grasp, but he only tightens his grip with a determined expression on his flushed face.

"You have five seconds to let go of me, or else."

The fumes of Hongjoong's nail polish in the air and an obnoxious splutter of laughter greeted him once he stepped foot inside the large home. Why did he ever agree to live with seven other monsters?

His brow twitched in annoyance.

Three heads from the living room turned to gaze questioningly at the frustrated brunette.

"What the hell happened to you?" wheezed an amused Wooyoung from the sofa. Yeosang wanted to wipe that stupid smile off his face and-

"I take it things didn't go well for lover boy," San grinned from the floor, hands occupied with running along his cat's fur.

"Got his ass handed to him by his soulmate, you think?" Jongho added casually whilst adjusting his posture and clicking away at the remote. The other two snorted with amused laughter.

"Aren't soulmates supposed to be infatuated with each other at first sight?"

"I don't know, San. Maybe Yeosang's case is special."

"I mean, he did steal-"

"Can you three please just shut up," he seethes, rummaging through the freezer for a bag of frozen vegetables. He simply walks past Yunho's confused form in the hallway, grumbling about how he doesn't want to talk about it.

You thought you had seen the last of that pest, but the very next day, you practically choked at the sight of the male walking into the coastal cafe you worked at.

"What are you doing here!?"

"Y/n, wait-" he grimaced, hands raising up defensively, "Give me a minute to explain."

He even had the audacity to dodge your question.

"How do you know my-" you gave him a puzzled look, before your expression darkened, "Oh. Right. You stole my wallet, of course you snooped through my ID."

He gave you an awkward smile, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, "I forgive you for giving me a black eye."

He notices your dumbfounded look.

"Huh. I don't recall ever apologizing to you," you begin, "And I never told you where I work, either. You've been stalking me, haven't you?"

"No. You were wearing the uniform of this place yesterday actually," he points a matter-of-factly. Clearing his throat, he peered around, thankful at the lack of customers this early in the morning, "I uh.. I think- I think you're my soulmate."

You pause your ministrations.

"Come again?"

Rolling his eyes, he sighs, shoulder slumping as he repeats himself whilst pointing to his left eye, "I think we're soulmates. You and I share the same birthmark and-"

A loud laugh escaped your lips, "You are most definitely not my soulmate. Birthmark or not," you turned to assemble utensils and napkins, fully disregarding his presence, "I'm not interested in thieves. Now if you'll leave me alone, I have some work to do."

"But you felt a connection too, didn't you? Yesterday, in the market-" he drawled in amusement, leaning over the countertop in a teasing manner, "I know you feel it when you look at me."

"The only thing I feel when I look at you is a mind-splitting headache," you grumble while adjusting the radio station to your liking.

A minute of silence passes. His face scrunches in distaste.

"What on earth is that insufferable noise?"

"That's called rock music." You roll your eyes, "Now leave me alone."

You take sudden interest in the dirty speckle you find on one spoon, and maybe if you stare hard enough at it, he'll disregard you and leave.

Your head perks at the sound of a chair dragging against the floor.

"Serve me."

"What the hell did you just say?" you spluttered belligerently, turning around with a look of pure disbelief. Your eye twitched at the sight of him taking a seat so casually on one of the booth chairs. "You think you're so funny, don't you?"

"I honestly don't, but—" He studied you with humor in his eyes, his fingers drumming along the wooden countertop, "my friends say that I am."

"I don't know who you think you are, but you-"

"A customer."

"Oh, piss off," you give up and turn to continue wrapping pairs of utensils together, "I'm not serving you."

"Is everything alright there, y/n?" called the tiny, elderly lady from the back, "Do we have a customer already?" Your head turns to eye the small, gray-haired woman exiting the kitchen, "Oh! A handsome fellow. What would you like to drink, young lad?"

Your eyes widen and your heart nearly drops to the floor.

Your orbs turn to slits as Yeosang gives you a sleazy smile, "Coffee for now, actually."

The poor napkin crumples into a wrinkly mess in your fist.

Oh, this bastard. This slimeball. You'll make him pay.

"Y/n! Take the man's order and start brewing the coffee!"

"Yes, Mrs. Lee!" You turned back to give the brunette a sour look, "The faster you order, the faster you'll leave. So what the hell do you want?"

The next day was much busier than the last.

You're particularly disturbed by the way two males stare at you like deer in headlights every time you pass by their table. They're young looking, maybe around your age. Kind of handsome, too- but they really don't know how to be discreet in the slightest.

Tired of the staring, you pause suddenly, giving them a look of concern as they suddenly dart their eyes and find extreme interest in the salt and pepper shakers in between them, "Is everything alright here?"

For a moment, they stay quiet.

"You're fine," the black haired one replies with a delirious smile, his head resting in his palm. He startles as the blonde elbows him in the side with a harsh whisper of Wooyoung!, and he jumps upright, back stiff and voice growing louder, "Uh! I- uh, I mean- it's fine! Everything is fine!"

"Okay.." you slowly draw out with furrowed brows.

The blonde grimaces in embarrassment, shielding his face with his hand as he looks off to the side in shame, "Can you at least try not to embarrass us?"

"In my defense, Yeosang never said his soulmate was that hot in person!? I could've used a warning, y'know?"

The bell on the door jingles and immediately catches your attention. You walk to the front with a smile only for it to instantly fall at the sight of the familiar mop of brown hair.

"Not you.." you sigh, your head in your hand as you stare in dismay out the window, "Why does the universe hate me?"

"Why are you complaining?" He quipped back with a playful bite, "Weren't you the one staring at me all day yesterday?"

"I was making sure you weren't going to steal anything," you narrowed your eyes at his growing smirk. He leans over the flaky, wooden podium and simpers at the sight of your panic stricken face, "Stop, you look like a creep."

"I know a liar when I see one," he sighed with a shake of his head. Reaching over to pluck out a stray fuzz of dust from your hair, he shoots you a determined frown, "The only thing I'm ever going to steal from here is your heart."

"I- that's kind of gross. Flirting is against the law on these premises," you stutter out, brows furrowing and nose flaring. You refuse to give in to his flirtatious remarks. You're also thankful the podium conceals your wobbly legs.

"Who the hell made that stupid rule?"

"Me. Now what do you want?"

"Such welcoming service skills you have there," he mumbles sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

"Let me guess. You want chicken and a soda, right?"

Across the room, the two boys shared a quick look before one leaned over to whisper in the other's ear. They both nod in unison, before throwing you knowing grins and snorting as they munched quietly on their food.

"Correct," he says with a steady cold voice, "And a body-bag if you have any, please."

Before you processed his words, he sauntered off to the table of the two boys, their complexions paling at the sudden angry demeanor of the brunette. His hands quickly reach forward to tug both of their ears as he quietly berates them.

"I told you not to come here!" he ignores the way Wooyoung laughs and whines in protest as he's practically pulled off his seat by his ear.

"We're not doing anything! We're just eating!"

"Eating my ass, you're-"

"Oh, gross. I'm not gonna do that. Maybe you should ask y/n-"

You and other patrons stop to gaze at the commotion at the back of the cafe, and you roll your eyes at the disturbance, before walking back over to another table to collect the money and bill.

A few minutes pass and kitchen bell rings. You look back to see the fried chicken plate steaming on the countertop, along with a large glass of bubbling soda.

The duo discreetly peek up to stare at your form, only to startle at the unwavering glare from Yeosang.

"Fried chicken and a large coke?"

"Mhm," Yeosang meets your eyes, and you internally pester yourself at the sensation of your cheeks and ears flaming. How absolutely dare he make your stomach churn like this, "Thanks, y/n."

"Say, y/n. Are you new to these parts? I wouldn't forget a pretty face like yours if I saw one," mused the black haired male. Yeosang threw a hard stare at the younger, and the latter shrunk a bit in his seat, the same mischievous smile unwavering on his features.

"I moved here about a month ago," you stated simply. A moment ticks by and the trio argue in a hushed manner.

"Well, we'll take our leave now!"

"Good luck, Yeosang!" the blonde called out suddenly, throwing a thumbs up in the air whilst hastily making their way out of the cafe, the little bell signaling their departure.

His eyes glance at you momentarily, before he clears his throat and looks away.

Your eyes narrow suddenly at the brown haired man.

"You're paying for their lunch, right?"

He chokes on a bite of his chicken.

"Where are you going?"

"Out," Yeosang says hurriedly, fingers stumbling as he attempts to tie his laces.

"Where?" presses Wooyoung with a large smile.

Yeosang doesn't reply and instead throws open the coat cabinet to look around for his ripped, acid-wash jacket.

"Guys! Yeosang's treating us at y/n's cafe!"

Excited jeers come from some of the rooms, and Yeosang can only stare in utter horror and disbelief at his best friend.

Today was definitely going to be the worst day of his life.

A week passes by, and you suddenly catch yourself feeling almost disappointed that Yeosang hadn't come to visit you.

You want to slap yourself for having such thoughts, and take out your frustrations by wiping one of the tables aggressively.

And the bastard was spot on about that stupid feeling you got in the pit of your stomach at the mere thought of him.

But, you were keen on wanting nothing to do with him.

Not after the trouble he put you through.

Soulmate or not.

Besides, he was technically a criminal. Sort of.

He had a charming smile though. And really pretty lips.

And maybe you found him to be the most handsome man you've-

"He's not handsome!" You blurted to your reflection on the wet table. A table of customers feet away pause their conversation and give you a look of bewilderment.

"Uh," a voice pipes from a few feet away, "Table for eight, please?"

Your heart suddenly leaps at the familiar voice and thw corners of your lips perk up in happi-

Pausing, you internally scold yourself for being unable to conceal your excitement.

This stupid attraction you had towards him left your mind scrambling for coherent thoughts- and curse that feeling of your stomach doing back flips. You fight the urge to punch your gut to rid yourself of that disturbing sensation.

You internally groan, not even bothering to turn around to know who had just spoken. You stand up straight, clearing your throat and awkwardly folding the wet towel in your hands. Yeosang stood at the entrance, an unamused expression on his face as the other seven behind him nosily peered over each other's shoulders to spare you a curious glance.

"Uh," you begin, looking back at the empty tables, "You can sit right here. I'll go grab some menus."

As the eight men made their way to the table, you overheard one laugh loudly to the others, "Wooyoung was right! Y/n is pretty cu-"

A jerk underneath the table and loud yelp caught your attention, and you instantly threw Yeosang a look as the other boys timidly settled in their seats. He caught your gaze and rolled his eyes.

Oh, the nerve he had.

And to think you actually missed his presence.

You learned that the seven other boys were a loud bunch, often saying something to fluster and piss off the brunette. Especially when you were in earshot. And, sweet heavens, they can eat.

Your arms were practically sore from the amount of times you walked back and forth carrying their orders.

You watched as Yeosang finished with his meal and leaned against the adjacent wall, arms crossed in annoyance and face turned to the side to stare out of the window. Your eyes study the others before flickering back at him, and you can’t help but feel a small, knowing tug of want in your chest. You instantly straighten up at the thought, shaking your head in dismissal, before walking over to collect some of the empty plates.

"Would any of you like some dessert?"

A blue haired man wiggled his brows.

"Yeosang wants some, isn't that right-"

Another kick and another glare.

"Actually, we'll just have four cheesecakes if you don't mind."

Ah. Finally. A decent, well-mannered being really does exist.

You can immediately discern that the red-headed man, despite being the smallest, held a leader-like aura to himself, given how the other boys suddenly fell quiet when he spoke. They look amongst each other and nod in agreement.

When the boys wrapped up and fought amongst each other about the payment, your shift neared its end. You nodded with a polite smile as they filed out the door with boisterous cries of 'thank you, y/n'!

"Sorry," a voices suddenly says, and you give the brunette a quizzical look, "If they were too loud.. or embarrassing."

"That's okay," you shook your head and shrugged lightly, "It wasn't a big deal. I'm used to loud customers."

"Right. So, uh.." he pursed his lips, words dying out in his throat as he glances around the cafe with nervous eyes, "Thanks- ah, for the food. See you soon!"

Before you had the chance to reply, the bell chimed and you were left alone in the cafe.

"You have a cat!?"

Your nearly jump out of your skin at the loud remark in your ear, and you immediately spin around threateningly.

Hovering behind you were those same two boys from the other week. You mentally make a note to find an ENT doctor soon. And perhaps a cardiologist.

"Yeah-" you squint in confusion as the black haired male leans forward to study your features. You gently push his face away with an uncomfortable grimace, "What are you doing?"

"You really do have the same birthmark as Yeosang, I can't believe it."

"Yeah, neither can I," you hum sarcastically, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a cat to feed."

"What's your cat's name?" The blonde practically bounces in his step as he follows you into another aisle. You want to ask why he's filming the rows of snacks with a small video camera, but you decide to save yourself the headache and not bring it up.

You peer back at the duo with a look of disbelief, "Why are you following me?"

"You're interesting."

"Right."

"We should really have a cat play-date. Is your cat a boy or a girl?"

You sigh as you place a bag of chips into your cart, deciding to amuse them for a brief moment, "Pepper is a male."

"Great! Byeol needs a man," the blonde, San- you think, nods in excitement.

"What kind of a friend are you? Set up your friend before you set up your cat," scoffs Wooyoung with an amused snort. His hands grab at the large bags of barbecue flavored chips, and you contemplate giving the back of his head a whack when he sets them into your cart.

They continue to follow you through the aisles, and while a small part of you wants to tell them off, another part of you can't help but laugh in amusement and endearment at their antics and bickering.

Once you've finished shopping, you bid them a farewell, handing Wooyoung his chips and strolling over to the cashier. Your head suddenly perks up at the commotion over by the fruit section, and you only can stare in bewilderment at the ruckus the other boys create whilst shopping for necessities. A store employee stares nervously as one of the boys juggles a bundle of bananas and oranges, while another nearly stumbles back from the other two dancing aggressively in the aisles. You wonder if this was a regular occurrence, and judging by the way the manager walks by without a care in the world, you conclude it indeed is.

You step outside afterwards, placing the bags into your bicycle's basket, before mounting it and debating whether to look back into the market at the rowdy bunch.

Your eyes catch Yeosang staring at you, and bite your cheek to prevent yourself from smiling. He's riding that damned thing again, and he pauses for the briefest moment to give you a wave.

You find yourself mindlessly waving back, and you abruptly stop once you realize your actions. You hastily throw your arm down to your side and attempt to glare in his direction, but he's already looked away with a large smile plastered on his features.

Most days working at the cafe were fine. People ate, some lingered longer to catch up with friends and play round of card games, and others came to take advantage of the happy hour specials.

But then there were some days you wanted to throw all your dignity in the nearest disposable bin, and wrestle down obnoxious patrons.

You huffed in anger at the sight of an empty table.

What kind of grown up decides to dine and ditch?

Isn't that what... children do?

It's when you stack their empty plates in your hands and turn towards the kitchen do you spot Yeosang walking towards you.

"Now is not the time," you start, hoping your annoyance isn't that obvious.

He silently hands you a wallet.

You quirk a brow, setting the plates down onto the table, "That's not mine?"

"Open it," he says with a roll of his eyes.

You swear if he does that again, you'll roll his head.

You furrow your brows and snatch it out of his hands. Your eyes widen at the picture of the very same man who left without paying, and you instantly shifted your attention to the brunette, "You did not just.."

"I'm sure all that cash is triple the amount his lunch costs," he replies with a wink, "It's no big deal."

"I can't," you swallow, shaking your head and handing him back the wallet, "I can't take this. It's considered stealing."

He gives you an unimpressed look.

"So?" he reaches over to flick your forehead, earning him a glare, "Stop being such a goody two shoes. He stole your service, so you steal his money. It's only fair, right?"

"I'll just take the amount he owes.." you speak unsurely, brows knitting in contemplation. He hands you a few bills, and you nod, "Yeah. This is just enough to-"

"And a tip."

He shoves the remaining money into your apron and your hand flies to smack his arm in shock, "No! I said-"

"Yeah, well I said you deserve a tip!"

"It's not my money!" you scold him.

"I stole it, so it's considered mine now, and I want to tip you! Stop being so stubborn, and just accept it!"

It's when you stop struggling do you notice the extreme proximity of the disgruntled male. He's so unbelievably close that you can make out the borders of the birthmark that mirrors your own. You don't waver as you stare back him with widened eyes.

"Y'know, you're kind of cute when you're mad," he begins sheepishly, eyes narrowing in thought as he inspects your features, "Uh. Since you're new to town, maybe I can show you around whenever you're free?"

Stepping back, you brush out the wrinkles of your apron and straighten your back.

"I'm not going on a date with you," you counter simply. You turn your face to glare out the window, but he stares knowingly at your burning face.

"Whoa, hold on," he smiles in amusement, "Date? Who said anything about it being a date?" You flush at his words, eyes narrowing. He laughs at your lack of amusement, "It's not a date, okay? Just think of it as a.. friendly welcoming gift. And an apology for, y'know. The whole stealing your wallet thing. Besides, my friends want to come anyway."

You cross your arms defensively and ponder for a while.

"Fine, but I expect an ice cream cone as a welcoming gift as well," you try and ignore that absurd feeling of butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach. You want to roll your eyes as his features suddenly brighten at your agreement, but you don't. Unable to breathe within the awkward atmosphere, you turn to clear the remaining utensils and plates off the table, "So, uh. I'm free tomorrow, I think. I guess you need my number, right?"

"Oh, no need. I already saved it." You swivel around to see him quirking his brow at your phone.

Oh, he didn't.

You instantly slap your hands onto your back pockets, your heart nearly dropping at the lack of the device, "Y'know, you really should put a passcode on this thing. Also, nice background picture you got there."

This obnoxious little-

He laughs out loud as you swipe the phone angrily from his hold and snap the dry towel onto his chest in retaliation, "Stop pickpocketing me!"

"I can't! Not until I have your heart," he leaves with an amused wave of his hand and a soft laugh, "Besides, you make it too easy. See you tomorrow!"

"Who was that?" asks Mrs. Lee as she waddles out of the kitchen with a large tray of pastries. Her eyes are wide behind her wide-brimmed glasses, and she attempts to tip-toe over the countertop to catch a glimpse of the retreating figure outside.

You contemplate your next words for a moment and bite your cheek to keep a smile at bay, "My stupid soulmate."