#ill probably still read other plays in between the rest of what i have of david copperfield (less than 300 pages)

[vivalabunbun]

There Are Nothing But Flowers

Summary: You want to play house and he’s just hungry.

Word Count: 11.3K

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Smut(r18+), Modern AU, Vampire AU, TW: Death, Terminally ill! Reader,  TW: Medical gaslighting, description of medial treatments & corruption, TW: Blood & Blood drinking, vague mentions of violence, Contract Marriage AU, slight! enemies to lovers, Slow burn, NSFW, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Unrequited love?, Vampire! Alhaitham, Dom! Alhaitham, Human! Reader, biting, slight orgasm denial, overstimulation, creampie, slight corruption kink, temperature play? you fall hard, slow fic, tragedy. 

Authors note: This is the other side to this work, your side of the story, please read the tags carefully. I wanted to explore the other side of the garden wall and themes of mortality, it’s heavy, please read when you feel well enough to see what lies beyond. Enjoy. 

Side note: the aftermath

“Honey, I’ll be off to work now.” A dapper man straightens out his tie, a briefcase in his other hand.

“Dear…aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Are my pants unzipped again?” His eyes darted down as disembodied laughter rang out in the unseen background.

“No, you forgot this.” The pattering of house slippers stops as the woman cradles her lover's face between her hands.

The kiss from her immaculately painted lips melted the wrinkles from his forehead as the taller man leaned into his deserved affection.

“Have a good day at work, my love.”

—

A quiet house on the hill, white picket fences, and a lovely dog wagging its tail in the green yard. Eyes watching the vibrancies dance along a small screen, blocking out the gray in the peripheral.

Everything about this drama was cliché, the plot slow and predictable, just mediocre. So perfectly mundane that your hand itches to grab it through the screen like a thief. But are you really a thief if you steal back what was taken from you? 

Before your mind can explore that comparison further a knock drags you out of the immersion, thumb quickly taps the screen to halt the fantasy. 

“Good evening, ma’am.” The doctor in his white uniform enters. 

“Hello, doctor.” 

Two polite smiles greet each other, neither truly reaching the eyes. Your hands neatly folded together, his fiddling with the chipboard which held your verdict.

Observing how his teeth bit the inside of his cheek as his eyes scanned the charts. Your hands remain still even as he takes a deep breath.

“Unfortunately it has spread beyond our initial expectations. The results show that it’s progressed to a late stage despite our best efforts. Right now, you only have a few treatment options left.”

What happened to ‘just that time of the month’, ‘just get fresh air’, and ‘just give it some time’? 

“There’s a series of procedures to cut out the spread, however, it might be very difficult as the infection is deep and intertwined with healthy tissue. The success rate is low, and the probability of it coming back is very high.” 

What happened to ‘you’re young and healthy, it’s nothing’? 

“The next possible treatment would be Kalpalata Lotuses. It has properties to slow inflections and has pain-reducing effects, however, it’s slow and inefficient in the long run. If you choose the first option you’ll have to pair it with treatment two. The first could give you fourteen years, the second on its own might only give you half of that.” 

What were these past months spent behind a glass prison all for? 

The constant hum of the machines filled in the dead space, the beeps on the monitors counting the passing seconds as two lips remained closed.

From the hallways, the chattering of nurses provided proof that the world in fact has not stopped spinning. Something dreadful filled the room, a silent suffocation. He was the first to fold. 

“Please take your time to think this decision over, I’ll leave you to get some rest. Have a good night ma’am.” There was a flutter of pages folding back down to the clipboard.

The doctors were letting you pick your poison, how thoughtful of them. 

Just as before two polite smiles that didn’t reach the eyes acknowledged each other, with a nod the doctor took his leave, eager to end his shift, to escape the unseen hands.

Not a word slipped past your lips during the one-sided conversation, tongue unable to string together a single sentence. What is there left to say? 

As you lay back down your fingers brushed against the screen, restarting the episode as the laughter of an audience resonated along the sterile walls. 

Maybe if the doctors, with their acclaimed degrees and status, were just a little more attentive.

Maybe if they didn’t simply see you as a lady with nonsensical symptoms.

Maybe if they didn’t view you as a statistic.

Then you wouldn’t have collapsed that day at work.

Then you wouldn’t have spent grueling months undergoing diagnosis after diagnosis.

Then maybe just maybe the Pythagorean Cup wouldn’t have surpassed its threshold, emptying out all hope. 

The dialogue continues but it’s all but a fuzzy ringing now. Eyes watching the passing car lights dance upon the gray ceiling from the late evening traffic of workers, with their white or blue collars, eager to return home. 

You longed for that, to return there. Hands itching to rip out the tube from your arm and the sensor with its pitched beeps. 

Fourteen years, fourteen years of what? Bed sores from thin sheets? Chest pains at too deep of breaths? Stitches recovering only to be ripped open again? 

Sounds more like a punishment delivered deep underground in a place whose temperature rivals the surface of a burning star. 

Was it because you cursed at the man who cut you in line once?

Was it because you stole your college roommate’s sweater?

Was it because you never brought offerings to the Sanctuary of Surasthana? 

Were you such a despicable person in a past life that the sins carried over? 

Heavy lids closed to soothe the burning in your eyes, letting the warm trails run down your cheek. Reining your senses back from its escapade with a slow breath. 

No. It’s none of that. It’s just life, capricious life. Capricious life that took your parents and now is hunting you. 

There’s no karmic debt to pay off, there’s no faceless god to pray to. Setting one foot onto the path of true adulthood, only for your eyes to spot the end just over the horizon. What can you do? 

The jumbled laughs and fuzzy speeches coming from your phone’s speaker were becoming too much. Thus you rolled your heavy body over to silence it. Once again the world outside the window was in view, the soft orange glow from the office right across leaking into the suffocating grey. 

Oh, he’s at his desk tonight. 

Wet eyes watch as the ashen-haired being shifts through sheets of crisp paper and his pen moving constantly. It’s strange, a bit mocking even, that an immortal creature could be so mundane.

Maybe that’s why their office is just across the Bimarstan, to taunt those who longed for that reality, beckoning them to sign their names on a dotted line. 

Candace’s words were right, it’s a predatory scheme. 

Perhaps hold habits die hard, after all, vampires are creatures of the night that once terrorized generations of humans. 

Shielded by the panes of glass separating the two buildings, it was safe to continue this strange routine. Is staring at a stranger considered stalking if they’re the only view the windows offer? 

He got up from his desk, moving towards the filing cabinet just off to the side, allowing for his profile to come into view. 

He’s handsome, features outshining any of the male leads you’ve seen in movies. 

Teal eyes, ashen hair like moonlight, tall and broad stature. It’s no mystery why so many heroes and heroines fell into depravity, lured in by their beauty, entranced minds blindly offering up their everything. 

You weren’t special enough to be immune. Hence, why you continued to watch the nameless vampire who doesn’t know yours. Resting your cheek upon the stiff pillow, the feeling in your arm decreases like the cars in the streets. The pitched beeps keeping time.

He stood back up from his desk again, one hand grabbing the coat thrown over the back of a chair. Placing pens back into a cup and paper back into folders, he walks to the door before his hand shuts off the warm orange light. 

It looks like tonight’s episode has ended on time like always. Rolling back to stare at the drab ceiling, allowing blood to rush back into your arm as the sensation of pins and needles crawled up. It wasn’t bothersome, as tonight's viewing evoked entertaining thoughts. 

What a punctual vampire, where does he go after midnight? To a tavern or home?

Is someone waiting at the door for him there? Welcoming him back with soft lips?

Is that why he’s so eager to leave?

Your lids were growing heavy, the view of a blank ceiling wanes your alertness. The sweet curiosities coax you to continue in the realm of dreams, you listened to their call. 

Could you be that someone? 

“So, how ya feeling?” Dehya places down a container filled with baklava. 

“Mmm…”

The metal legs of the visitor's chair scraped across the floor as she awaits your response.

“Would you still be my friend if I was a rock, Dehya?”

“Ahh, not this again.” She rolls her eyes. 

Sitting upright in the hospital bed, hands folded together you awaited her response.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll still love you to bits even if you’re a pebble or something,” Dehya sighs, but there’s an upward tilt in her lips. 

“I’ll love you too.” You helped yourself to some baklava. 

A reward for your diversion of a miserable topic with sweet nonsense and special words. After all, she’s got a difficult job during the night, no need to make the day as difficult. Your mother used to say to save such words only for a special someone, but that’s the point of a word if it's never used?

–

“So, a few weeks ago I took this assignment that–” Dehya’s sapphire eyes moved behind you, gazing out the window where the sunlight poured in. 

“Ugh, his office is right across from you.” 

“Who?”

“Alhaitham, he’s a vampire I had the misfortune of meeting during a job, not that he’d remember.” 

So the vampire’s name was Alhaitham, it felt nice on your tongue. 

“Oh? How come?” 

“He just always talks in long, convoluted sentences, and in that snooty tone, snooty even for a vampire.” Dehya takes a piece of baklava to ease her from that bitter work experience. 

“My, I wonder how his spouse bares with him.” The bait was set out. 

“Pfft?! Ahaha! Who? It’s nearly impossible to spend five minutes by his side.” 

“Mm, really?” 

“No ring on his finger. From what I’ve gathered even other vampires can’t stand that personality of his.” Dehya takes another piece. 

Success. 

–

The container of baklava now only holds a few crumbs and traces of sweet syrup. The sun was beginning to kiss the horizon, a sign that your friend’s visit was coming to an end.

After all, she’s got a duty to fulfill as a hunter that maintains the balance between mortals and creatures who dare cross the boundaries of the law. 

Right as your hand returns from the air after bidding goodbye, it lands on the cold screen of your phone. In an age of growing cities and ever-advancing technologies, you’re grateful for these developments. As it makes your next actions possible.

It’s hard to miss a name when the letters are written in bold, imposing signs along the building just beyond the panes of glass.

As per Sumeru regulation, all employed vampires must be listed on company sites, an attempt at keeping track of such creatures. 

Scrolling page after page until eyes landed upon familiar ash-mint trusses.

Name: Alhaitham

Species: Vampire (Born)

Title: Secretary

Years At Company: 168

Fingers clicked on the next tab. 

“To apply for a blood contract, one must bring personal identification, and fill out an application during an appointed consultation with the vampire present. Once the boundaries of the contract are established, it will go through the approvement process.” 

Eyes moved to the next tab.

“Seven years is the maximum time for a singular contract, but it can be renewed every seven years. Both parties must fulfill the terms written on the contract. The value of a contract is determined by the amount of blood offered on a regular basis or in a future deposit. Applying for a contract that gives the maximum, 10 pints, in a full sum amount must pass a psychological evaluation.” 

--

Fourteen years is an unjustly cruel fate, but seven… Seven might be tolerable. After all, it’s often called the number of luck, you wonder if vampires were aware of this, maybe that’s why they chose that arbitrary number. 

Waiting as the sun disappears behind the horizon with your head resting against the stiff pillow. The warm orange glow from the office across from you signaled the start of tonight’s episode. Observing every stop and start of his pen as two voices wrangled your thoughts. 

There was a guest featured in this episode it seems, another vampire enters the office with a fresh stack of paper. He seemed eager for Alhaitham’s approval, even going as far as offering a pen out from his own pocket. However, this plan was foiled by a simple rise of hand by the male lead. 

The universal signal for rejection. 

The guest seemed dumbstruck. The only explanation the silver-haired lead gave was a simple gesture toward a clock. The guest’s hands were moving frantically as if to convey the urgency of the papers piled up.

However, Alhaitham simply takes his coat from the back of his chair and shuts off the warm light. 

In the murky darkness, your eyes could just barely make out the silhouettes of two figures traversing out of the office. Oh, tonight’s episode has ended just on time as always. 

How shamelessly punctual that vampire is. Some might even call it selfish. But what’s wrong with being selfish? After all, all true passions in life in the end are thinly veiled excuses for selfishness. 

If life wanted to be shamelessly selfish, then why can’t you? With that, it seems one voice has finally emerged victorious. 

Your fingers crept towards a button just off to the side, a quiet ding resounding as the bright glow flashed. Breaths counting the minutes before a set of footsteps stopped in front of your room, followed by a polite knock. 

“Is there something you need, ma’am?”

“Yes, I want to discharge myself tomorrow, as soon as possible.”

Your eyes traced over the too-long string of zeros printed on the check, hands wanting to crumble up the slip of paper. So this is how much your life was worth. Standing outside the Bimarstan, you peered up at the tall building that once caged you. 

Were the administrators looking down at you at this moment from their high offices? Were they watching your reaction to their little bribe? Pushing you to keep your lips shut, so that their mistakes and misjudgments won’t reach the ears of the press? 

It doesn’t really matter now, but it was thoughtful of them to hand out an extra bargaining chip. Refocusing your attention back on the building just across the street, there were still some preparations to finish.  

–

The time was now 6:30 pm, the sun has ran off into the night allowing for the stars to guide you back to the building just beyond the glass.

A simple bag held your offerings: proof of identity, property documents, doctor's notes, and bank statements handsomely topped off with the help of a certain check. 

There’s a jitter in your legs as you stood just beyond the threshold of the sliding doors. Is it really the right thing to do?

What would be the look on the faces of your dearest friends?

Would the handsome stranger show last night’s gesture to you too? 

Your lungs steadily filled with the crisp air, pushing their capacity almost to the point of pain, you exhaled. 

The right thing to do is to be selfish, they’ll understand sooner or later, and the worst thing he could do is say no.

Even if you leave with your cheeks burning in shame, the burn would only last seven years. Your feet stepped past the threshold and the glass doors parted. 

“Excuse me, is Mr. Alhaitham here tonight?” You already knew the answer. 

“Hm? Yes… Are you looking for him, youngster?” The receptionist quirks a brow at you. 

“Yes, I want to schedule a contract consultation with him right now.” You take note of her name tag. 

“Hold just one moment, the secretary-”

“Is his schedule occupied right now?” 

“No, but if you’d let me finish, Alhaitham isn’t one of the vampires that usually accept such-”  

“Please, Madam Faruzan?” 

You weren’t sure if it was the polite address of her name or the plead in your gaze that was the cause of the decisive furrow between her brows. However, her shoulders slumped forward as a huff leaves her lips. 

“Alright, please follow me.” She gestures a hand, welcoming you to the elevator just behind the desk. 

“Thank you.” 

Within the confines of the fancy cart, the blue-haired vampire asks over and over if you had all the correct documents, listing each one out. Your skilled ears tuned every word out, nodding along to feign attention. Finally, the saving grace of a pleasant ding signals the chart’s stop at its destination. 

When the polished doors slid apart, you charged out into the floor, your legs guiding you to the office with the clearest view of your old glass cage.

From behind you, Faruzan called out your name as she mutter something about how humans these days are always in just a rush. Your ears could care less about her words. 

Gallivanting through the threshold of his open office door, you finally came face to face with the male lead you’ve been fawning over.

As his eyes meet yours, you observed the brilliant shades of teal and ocher in them. Really, the view from across two panes of glass couldn’t detail his true beauty. 

“Hello, Mr. Alhaitham.” You beamed your best smile. 

The pattering of steps behind you comes to a stop as Faruzan finally catches up exasperated at your impatience. 

“Secretary Alhaitham, this young lady here would like to make a blood contract with you.” 

The weight of his teal gaze shifted back on your frame after your late introduction, assessing the situation as you awaited his response. 

“I see.” He nods while walking out from behind the desk, pulling out the chair in front of it.

The receptionist took her cue to leave the room, shutting the office door on the way out. The room now balanced with just one mortal and one immortal. 

You paid no mind to his words as you settled down into the seat, after all, you’ve already read through them. Instead, your ears absorbed his timbre tone and smooth cadence. What a dangerously beautiful voice, it’s beckoning you towards the murkier waters. 

“What are your demands?” 

“Marry me.” Your lips blurted the truth out before shame got the chance to stop them.

Remember, the worst he could do is to show you the door. 

–

In truth, you were preparing yourself to see the open palm of his large hand as he rejects your ridiculous proposal. Yet, here you were, still in his office. Sitting just across the expanse of his dark oak desk, all your documents scattered across it as Alhaitham’s pen guided across a form. 

“What are the living arrangements you expect?” He doesn’t glance up from the paper.

“Mm… Would moving into your home be possible? Married couples usually live together.” 

“That’s possible. Expectations for domestic and financial responsibilities?” 

“I can’t work, so I don’t mind taking care of the house. But, I do want us to share some chores, so I don’t go insane.” You wonder if the ends of his lips would curl at your humor.

“I see.” The pen continues to record the sentences down on the form. 

You kept the smile up despite the sting of failure. 

“So… How much blood do vampires need?” Best to move on. 

“It depends. Humans can give at most two pints of blood safely, and only once every two months.”

“You only need to feed once every two months?”

“Yes, would that be an issue?” 

Lips parted, your next sentence dangles just off the tip of it. However, it seems that Alhaitham had already read them. 

“Mortal medicine has no effect on our bodies.” 

“Are there any restrictions on affection? Any personal boundaries?” You pivoted to another question. 

The pen stops for a moment, his teal eyes shifting off the paper for just a brief moment as he evaluates numerous scenarios, or at least that’s what you think he’s doing. 

“Deep kisses are not permitted.” Alhaitham’s teal eyes pierced straight into yours as he delivered the verdict. 

It’s silly really, you really don’t have the right to demand an ounce of touch from him, you aren’t entitled to his personal space. However, something still made your stomach sink. 

“Oh?... May I ask why?”

“There runs the risk of blood contamination through exchanging saliva, our incisors are quite sharp.” 

Oh. You read between the lines he penned down. The most sacred law of this age, a time where mortals and immortals walk alongside each other: vampires cannot turn humans into immortal beings. 

He’s being precautious, after all the price he’d have to pay for a drop of his blood tainting yours is far greater than anything you could offer. Yet, the greed deep within you wouldn’t stay silent. 

“Are closed-mouth kisses okay then?” Haggling the clauses like you were at a market stall. 

Once more the pen stops as he contemplates your bargain. 

“Yes.” 

“The contract has been submitted to the legal department. If you pass the evaluation, it’ll be approved by the end of this month. I look forward to your cooperation.” 

And with his disembodied voice over the phone, he accepts your proposal. Alhaitham agreed to play the role of your husband. The anticipation that weighed down your shoulders for the past three days was finally lifted. Hopefully he can’t hear your idiotic grin through the phone. 

Success. 

—

“No, I won’t accept this.” Dehya slams her glass down, unfazed by the glances from surrounding tables. 

“Please reconsider your decision.” Candace gives you her disapproving gaze. 

Shifting your eyes over to Nilou, poor sweet Nilou whose wide eyes could only convey the word ‘why?’. The interrogation after showing the ring to your dearest friends was much more intense than the evaluation you underwent to get the marriage approved. 

However, it’s to be expected. After all, two of the people at this table were hunters. If anyone knew the true brutality vampires hold, it would be them. 

Tapping on the screen of your phone to reveal the time. Of course, you won’t arrive at this negotiation unprepared. Glancing back up to face the counsel of your friends, a honeyed smile on your lips. 

“Would you guys have the time to accompany me to a doctor’s visit?” 

–

That took longer than you expected, walking out of the sliding glass doors which reflect the everchanging hues of dusk. The cause for this extended session at the Bimarstan was the numerous times your dearest guests made the poor doctor repeat your verdict. 

Each time hoping that something different would leave his mouth. Peering up at the building across the street, you wonder if he’s getting ready to leave the house soon. 

The closing of the automatic doors draws your attention back to the three figures who followed behind you. Pensiveness eyes downcasted as their minds continued to digest the events that have unfolded. 

“Pfft! What’s with this atmosphere?” A giggle leaves your breath, it’s unbefitting for a gathering of friends. 

“I won’t force you to attend my wedding if you don’t want to. However, I’ll be quite the lonely bride without any bridesmaids.” There was your honeyed smile again.

They could say no, they could beg you to drink the first poison offered by the doctors, they could ask you to give them more time, to give yourself more time. But they won’t. You knew they won’t.

Unlike you, they’re selfless and heedful, all your fortune in life must’ve been spent on finding such dear friends. 

You’re the only selfish one. 

There are many things you like about Alhaitham. Even excluding his excellent physique, his starlight hair and beryl-citrine eyes, he’s got the perfect traits of a life partner. He satisfies all the aspects of the ideal husband. Never leaving you wanting or hungry. You could list all his positive traits.

–

One, by simply holding out a hand, he’ll place his black card onto your awaiting palm. Not even batting an eye when you returned home from a ‘simple grocery run’ in a new set of clothes with the tags still on.

When you mentioned to him that a TV would look nice on the empty living room wall, he ordered one on the same day. How dreamy. 

–

Two, he’s quite the interesting specimen. 

“So, if someone were to douse you with blessed water, your flesh won’t burn?” 

“No.” 

Alhaitham humors your ridiculous inquires about his species, enlightening you to just how inaccurate those films and shows you loved were.

He even humors the trivial anniversaries, celebrations, and dates inspired by any recent dramas you fancied. The wedding was proof enough: he tolerates your fantasies. 

–

Three, what you liked most of all: he’s too smart to ask redundant questions. After all, he’s read the files, he’s seen the diagnosis.

It’s not some secret that shall not be told, not a monster that shall not be named. Just like how there’s no point in telling someone the sky is blue, there’s nothing left to say about the doctor's notes.

No surprises, no sudden alarms, just the artificially sweet lull of domestic life. 

–

Performing the part of a doting husband with such spectacular accuracy, you could almost mistake it as sincere.

You applaud the amount of skill it takes. However, costars are meant to bring out the best in each other, pushing one another past their thresholds for an excellent show. 

The slightest blunders of lines and facial muscles couldn’t fool your expert gaze. It does take one to know one. 

–

“Haitham,” you called out. 

Setting down the two servings of biryani on the dinner table, the rich spices perfumed through the halls. It only takes one call for Alhaitham to come out from his library, halting for a second at the threshold of the kitchen before swiftly composing himself once more. 

“Dinner is ready, it’s biryani tonight.” You gestured for him to take a seat, a smile ever present on your lips. 

“Thank you.” He takes his place. 

You take your place just across the table, wasting no time enjoying the fruit of labor after standing over a stove. Every grain of rice perfectly coated in the right amount of seasoning, just the correct level of richness. The recipe you followed online deserved its high rating, it’s delicious. 

Traveling across the length of the dinner table, your leaden gaze landed upon the figure who has yet to touch his meal. That must’ve been enough for him to take his cue, bringing a spoon full into his mouth, chewing then shallowing. 

“How is it?” Resting an elbow on the polished oak.

“You’ve worked hard on this dish, thank you.” He takes another bite. 

Letting out a pleased hum, you released him from this scene. Turning your attention back to your own meal. 

You’ll clear your plate in about twenty more bites, and he’ll continue to push the contents of his plate around once in a while faking a bite. Then after you’re finished, he’ll swiftly offer to clear the table and dishes, telling you to retire to the bedroom for rest. 

A clever diversion from his ultimate goal of dumping your cooking into the trash. You’ve gone through this script for two years now. 

It’s practically impossible to completely suppress one’s true intentions and instincts. Alhaitham can’t fully prevent the corners of his lips from down-turning every time you address him with that botched nickname. 

He can’t entirely stop the sigh escaping his lips whenever you call for him to help with menial tasks, unbefitting for such a noble creature. 

He can’t suppress the repulsive scrunch of his nose every time your cooking assaults his palate, the same reaction witnessed during the bi-monthly feeding sessions.

The same disgust he has of your blood, you thought mortal medicines has no effect on such beings, an oversight on his part. 

He’s not as much of a mastermind as he might think, after all, he’s the one who allowed a piece of paper to be dangled over his head. Placing the power of clauses into the palm of your awaiting hand. 

You tell him ‘jump’, and he’ll ask how high with disdain thinly veiled behind brilliant teal.

Humans are defined by their curiosity and greed, mortal hands always playing chicken with a boundary, testing how far they could go. You’re not special enough to be different.

Perhaps the only time he gets the advantage is when you bare your neck for him. Fangs hastily piercing skin, hands a bit too harsh around the neck. He wants it to hurt, you know. 

Too bad, months spent at the hospital trained your tolerance to such sensations. 

If life wants to entangle its fingers into your hair and cruelly tow you to and fro, why can’t you enjoy that same feeling? You’ll just grasp at any wisp of control, you’re a simple human after all. You’d even grasp onto death to stable yourself.

Mortal self-interest versus immortal apathy, what a disastrous harmony. 

Ah, you slept a bit too long. Extended nap causing you to miss a scheduled cup of tea. Tapping a finger along the cool marble countertop you watched the kettle boil.

Frame resting against the counter, each tap against the marble was a futile attempt at distraction. Kalpalata Lotus’ effects can only last four hours, what a shame. 

The steady rhythm of taps interrupted now and then by a pulse of pain as the leaves steeped. Starting deep within your core then crawling it’s up to your lungs like a shadow overtaking a frail flower. 

This must be your warranted punishment for a transgression committed over the weekend. Dragging a creature of the night into the bright, unwelcoming sun all for a silly farmer’s market. Alhaitham’s slumped figure and worn tone were the cue. 

You thought vampires weren’t like how the drama portrayed them, but perhaps there’s some truth, an oversight on your part.

You played chicken with that boundary and got burned, how will you soothe the wounds of guilt now? 

Foregoing honey this time, you hastily swallowed the entire contents of the cup. No matter how fast you push the tea down your throat, no matter how many spoonfuls of honey you put into it: it’s unpalatable. 

The herbal tang dried the inside of your mouth, yet the bitterness made your salivary glands go into overdrive. This is what purgatory is like, huh? 

The chime of your ringtone snapped you back to reality. Glancing over at the screen: Candace. A call so late, she’s at work now, isn’t she?

Swiftly pushing down the bitterness that lingered, clearing your throat before accepting the call. 

“Hello?”

“Good evening, how are you feeling, any discomfort?” 

“Pfft! The diligent Candace gets on her phone during work just to check up on me? I’m swooned.” Your bell-like laughter made the pain worse as it rang through the empty house. 

From the other side, you could pick up the faint giggle, you envision her fighting back a smile. 

“Yes, yes. But more importantly, where are you now?” 

“Home, why? Did you want to visit? I got some baklava.” 

“Good, stay there.” There’s an instant switch to the mood. 

“Mm?” You hummed, passively acknowledging the tension. 

“Please stay inside. There’s a rouge vampire at large, hunters are scattered all throughout the city.” 

Leaving you with a cliffhanger, she knew you’d want a taste of the details. You’ll bite. 

“Oh? That serious, what did they do?” 

“He turned his lover.” 

Goosebumps ran up your neck in the perfectly tempered room. That vampire crossed the forbidden line in the sand, straight into the ocean of inevitable demise. 

The most sacred rule results in the most miserable end. Once caught, his chest will be pierced with silver, heart torn from his body. She doesn’t need to detail those, you already knew. 

“Oh?” 

“His lover has been located, they’re receiving treatment, unsure of the status. However, you should tell your husband to be careful.” 

“I should be saying that to you. Stay safe out there, he’s probably on his way back anyways.” Your eyes glanced at the clock, 11: 59 pm. 

“Alright, I will. You should really rest, it’s so late.” 

“Mm? Says you, Candace. Tell Dehya I said to stay out of trouble.” 

She hums in response. Right after you chimed your farewell and right before she disconnected the call, you slipped in one more line. 

“Please stay safe.” Addressed to no one person in particular. 

–

The hands on the clock now read 3: 21 am, a fresh cup of tea now rested in between your hands. Eye reflecting back at you, still no message, not a single call. His voicemail now ingrained into your ears. 

In an age where humans and vampires now live side by side, it’d be naive to believe that such arrangements are free from prejudice. After all, centuries of fear and hatred don’t just vanish into the air like the vapors of hot tea.

If a vampire is slain during a hunt, a creature unrelated to the true prey, oh well. 

It was for the greater good, it was to maintain the peace, to ensure humanity’s safety. You’re not in the mood to debate such flimsy excuses. 

–

It’s now 4: 34 am, the blushing hues of dawn were just about to creep through the curtains by the front door. Your legs begged for rest, your shoulders heavy, but you refused to leave your post. 

Finally, the clink of keys slotting into place sang through the entranceway. The heavy oak door opens, you don’t need to study his expression, he’s disappointed to see you. 

“Where’ve you been?” No chirp in your command. 

“I went drinking with coworkers.”

You know, you could smell it on him. 

“Why didn’t you call beforehand?”

Alhaitham doesn’t bother to suppress his deep exhale, nor the downward tug at his lips. Disdain meets disappointment, eyes and frowns locked into a staredown as the hands of a clock kept time.

In the peripheral you spot warm orange chasing away the pink, clearing the way for the most brilliant star. Oh, it looks like your wound wasn’t soothed enough. You closed your eyes. 

What went wrong with the script? 

You. 

It’s not selfishness, it’s plain immaturity. Immaturity breeds cruelty. The same immature cruelty of a curious child who ripped off the hypnotically beautiful wings of a butterfly. 

Perhaps the corruption of your tissues has made its way into your personality, an unforeseen consequence of that herbal tea. Or maybe your transgressions were the influence of a green-eyed monster. Immortality gives him an overabundance of what you’re deprived of. 

But it’s not his fault, it’s not an unseen monster’s fault, it’s your immaturity that’s ruining this performance. 

This just won’t do. With the script going awry long ago, there’s no use in trying to follow it, the two of two should conserve your energy.

It’s best to rewrite it again, to say lines that’ll move the scene along in the right direction, to save this domestic drama. You’ll be the first to fold. 

“My life’s too short for misunderstandings and messy communication,” you huffed. 

Lids opening back up to catch his gaze again, restrained and artificially blank as always. Still, he’s got beautiful eyes. 

“I’m your wife, and you’re my husband.” You stated the obvious.

Alhaitham knows that, so his lips remain still.

“So when my husband, who usually arrives home at half past midnight on the dot, didn’t arrive home until dawn without a single text or call, I got worried.” 

Another deep exhale from him. 

“You don’t need to report every movement to me, I don’t want that either. But if you plan on staying out please give me a simple text, so I don’t have to spend hours worrying about why my husband isn’t answering my calls.” 

The discoloration under your eyes, the slump of your heavy shoulders, and the unsteadiness of your knees. He’s observing them all, isn’t he? A pro-actor accesses the situation before deciding how to respond to an ad-lib. 

“I understand, I’ll do that from now on,” he answers. 

What a typical response for him, but maybe not so much for a husband. 

“You’re supposed to apologize, ya know: ‘I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, my wife’,” you advised. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, my wife,” he parroted. 

You’ll suppress your giggles for now, this successful pivot of a dreadful scene caused a grin to break out on your face. One that reaches your eyes. 

Arms outstretched you wrapped them around his neck as your lips warmed up his cool cheek, tying the ending together with repetition that’s now become a habit. 

“Welcome home, Haitham.” 

“Closed… for construction?...” Your eyes trailed across the bolded letters. 

The grand garden was blocked off by iron gates and mossy stonewalls, path dimly lit by dull streetlamps. 

It’s your third anniversary, to celebrate a new chapter, a reworked script, you planned this special itinerary. The Pardis Dhyai was the grandest garden in all of Sumeru, and they offered night tours. It was perfect, but it seems that you miscalculated.

“It’s negligence on their part for not having this notification on their website.” Alhaitham’s baritone voice draws you from your thoughts. 

You must look so idiotic right now. Getting all dressed up and even coaxing him from the comfort of the house just to bring Alhaitham to a wall. You didn’t fight the slump of your shoulders, the fires of shame licked at your cheeks. You feel the weight of his teal eyes. 

“The street market is open tonight, would you like to go there instead?” 

What a good husband, stepping in to remedy his wife’s mistakes. Finally gathering the courage to connect with his gaze, you notice the faint twitch of his nose as a breeze passed by. 

“Do you not like flowers?” 

“Their fragrance is overbearing.” 

Recalling the times you’ve shoved an excessive bouquet in front of his face during previous anniversaries, the familiar burn of guilt crept up your back. You just can’t do anything right tonight, huh? 

“There’s no point in standing around.” He stretched out a hand towards you, palms waiting. 

“... Heh, it’s a good thing it’s closed then huh, Haitham?” Placing your warm hand into his cold grasp, a meek smile stretches your lips. 

Alhaitham hums in response, mercifully guiding you in the direction of the night market. As you walked along the dimly illuminated path, your eyes traveled back to the stonewall once more, its height towering even over your husband. 

“I’ve never visited this place before… what a shame…” The comment slipped your tongue before you could bite it back. 

Alhaitham promptly stops, turning back to glance between you and the mossy wall. The lullabies of crickets filled the nothingness, much like they did during the wedding night. The smile on your face grew tighter, he must think you’re whining. 

“Woah??-” 

Before you could conquer up a line to transition from this scene, Alhaitham had released your hand, only for his arms to hoist you off the ground.

Tender hold balancing you against his firm frame, you had to tilt your neck down to look at his face. Following the subtle motion of his head you looked in the same direction, eyes widening as realization dawned upon you. 

The garden wall towered over the two of you, but as one, you were able to peer over the craggy barrier that once blocked your view. Wind blowing the floral fragrance over your face unobstructed. 

“What do you see?” The deep vibrations of his chest resonate against your body.

There was no one here tonight. Just a husband and wife enjoying a moment so private, not even the moon dare intrude. Sweetness meddling with bitter guilt, crafting something bittersweet.

“Flowers…very beautiful flowers,” you answered, gazing beyond the stones. 

“It’s a garden after all.” 

“Pfft!”

The contrast between this gentle scene and his curt response pushes a laugh from your breath. 

Patting his arm, you signaled for him to place you down, and carefully he follows your instruction. Once your feet touched the solid earth again, you pressed your face into his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

“It’s our anniversary.” The justification of his actions. 

“Of course… now let’s go, I want to try the samosas there!” The brightness returns back to your lips. 

This time, you lead the way. Warm hands mingle with his cold ones, creating a comfortable temperature as you gallivanted along as one. Under the moonless sky, you told him your first true lie, a full lie. 

–

How troublesome, you said you’d clean the library tonight. Looking around at the piles of books littered all throughout and the coating of dust. If only a nap didn’t eat away at the day, then maybe you wouldn’t be so pressed for time. 

Oh well, rolling up your sleeves to begin your promised duty. No use in mulling over it, and no use in blaming the nap either. It’s to be expected, after all, tea time is now every three hours. 

Alhaitham’s collection of books is nothing to scoff at, in fact, you’re willing to wager his collection rivals those of academic archives.

How long did it take for him to gather them? What criteria must they fit to catch his interest?

Small inquiries bloomed through your thoughts as each journal slid back into its rightful shelves. 

It can’t be helped. Finally, after four years, you’re now allowed past the threshold of his library. The last corner of the house which was wholly his. You’re allowed a glimpse into his sanctuary. The exhilaration from this privilege was enough to outweigh the tediousness. 

Eyes switching back and forth between the two covers currently in your hands. So focused on deciding between which shelves to place them your ears failed to pick up the poised footsteps coming your way. It took a pair of adamant hands on your shoulders to wake you from these thoughts

“Why weren’t you at the door?” A familiar baritone voice.

Oh, you weren’t mindful of the time at all. Meeting teal irises as you glanced back over a shoulder, not missing the ghost of a furrow between his brow. Alhaitham isn’t one who’s fond of deviations from a practiced script. 

“Sorry, sorry I got caught up in these books.” You couldn’t help but giggle. 

Placing the books back down and spinning around, cradling his face between your warm palms, you carefully placed a kiss on his cold lips. 

“Welcome home, Haitham.” You whispered against them. 

Alhaitham hummed as his eyes closed, savoring the sensation of your warmth transferring to him. How unbefitting of such a noble creature, melting into the touch of a mere mortal. What a beautiful view to witness, so lovely in fact, a certain phrase clawed its way to the tip of your tongue. 

“I...” You waited for his brilliant beryl eyes to reveal themselves again.

The soft trills of crickets creep in through the window, a call back to a night when an executive decision was reached by both parties to remove necessary lines from the script.

“… wonder if you collect books in place of company.” You’ll heed their warning. 

There was a sigh that filled the distance between you. 

“They’re great stimulants for the mind, perhaps you should read some.” No hesitation in his sardonic counter to your playfulness. 

“Pfft! Haitham, I can’t read half of these languages.” 

 It’ll be redundant to reinstate such words into a script that wasn’t written for it no? A part of you wonders if the quip was supposed to be a diversion from the faint downward pull of his lips.

The windows were cracked ajar allowing the crisp night breeze into the sanctuary of the bedroom, the new air circulating through helped push out the stuffiness. However, Summer was always too hot for you.

“Haitham.” Under the glow of a waxing moon, your hands reached out. 

Soon, the cool cheeks of your husband settled into the space between your palms, taking away the excess heat. You brought him closer, allowing your foreheads to touch. 

To never be bothered by the polar extremes of temperature, how nice it is to be born of the supernatural. 

“Mmm… It’s been a while, aren’t you hungry?” You broke the comfortable silence. 

“I’m fine.” Two firm arms pulled you closer. 

His gray lashes were still shut, concealing away the teal stained with hints of scarlet. A tell-tale sign. It’s about five years too late for him to lie to you. Like a stubborn child refusing to take his medicine, where did the arrogant vampire go?

It’ll be best to change tactics, everything must have its fair compensation, a principle Alhaitham follows to its core. Sliding your hands away from his face and down along the contour of his body as your face rests into the crook of his neck.

“It’s really hot tonight.” Warm palms sneaking under the barrier of a shirt. 

There’s a hiss that sounds next to your ear as two hands firmly grasp your hips. Emboldened by his reaction, your hands continued to explore his sculpted frame, icy skin stealing away the warmth that smothered you. Alhaitham’s fingers kneaded your hips in contemplation. Moving closer to his ear, your breath ghosted over them. 

“Haitham, can you make it go away?” The final push. 

A deep growl reverberated against his chest, a sign of his surrender to your whims. A gasp is knocked out of your lips as your back meets with the plush mattress. This time two icy palms traversed the sweltering outline of your skin, goosebumps trailing behind his every touch. 

You hummed at the sensation as his hands travel further up, pushing the troublesome fabric of your shirt out of the way, exposing your soft breast to the air. A moan slipped off your tongue as Alhaitham gropes at the soft mounds, placing a kiss in the valley between them, cold fingers playing with the nipples now perked. 

Wrapping your legs around his solid frame, your hands tugged at the shirt that blocked your view of his godly body. A silent whine for him to take it off, and like the good husband he is, Alhaitham complies. In return, your shirt was also stripped from your frame, a fair trade. Cheeks stained red from shame your mind was too muddled to process, you blame it on the heat. 

More icy kisses trailed along your chest and neck, as cool fingers sneaked under the waistband of your shorts. His icy touches land straight against your puffy lips, labia glistening with slickness. You flinched at the sudden temperature change against your pussy, and his hand twitched at the small surprise. 

“Wet already, and nothing underneath…” Alhaitham’s baritone voice reports his finding against your ear. 

“Mmm,” you sounded out, shivering at the combination of his voice and teasing fingers. 

“How lewd.” 

“You don’t like it?”

Instantly, a stiff mass was pressed against the softness of your thighs. 

“Do I seem displeased?” 

Entangling your fingers into ashen locks, you let a giggle flutter your chest against his. Two hearts beating on opposite sides. Shorts pulled off the length of your legs and kicked to the side, leaving you bare underneath his mercy.

Rolling your hips against his cool palms to generate some friction, your clit begging for an ounce of attention. A quick slap against the sensitive bud jolts your body as you moan, a swift punishment for your impatience. 

As if to soothe the lingering sting, his fingers circle the bundle causing your legs to shiver as pleasure runs up them. Your folds release more of their essence, Alhaitham’s fingers collect it, tracing your entrance with fleeting touches. The heat engulfing your body was beginning to become too much, your walls clenching around nothing desperately. Your legs pull him closer, attempting to spur on the tempo. 

Your feeble strength is nothing against his, Alhaitham effortlessly pulls away from your trap. A whine left your throat as even his ashen locks freed themselves from your grasp. 

“Shh, let me have a taste first.” He pulls you toward the edge of the bed. 

Vascular hands gripping onto your thighs, spreading them open to allow him unobstructed access to your dripping greed. A firm hold denies you the opportunity to slither away from the cool breaths hitting your pussy lips. 

Alhaitham’s tongue teases its way between your folds, collecting your escaped honey into his mouth as he releases a satisfied grunt. Licking stripes along your pussy, cool lips brushing against your sensitive clit. Your fingers found their way back to his silken locks, the back of your hand blocking your mouth. 

Objecting against your cruel act of denying him the privilege of your moans, a finger was abruptly thrusted into your soaked walls with a squelch, causing your back to arch off the sheets. Hand no longer able to withhold the sinful sounds from his awaiting ears. 

  Another finger soon makes its way into your gummy walls, sliding to curl against that one spot deep within before sliding out and repeating. All the while his lips closed around your delicate bud, suckling and abusing it with his brutish tongue. 

He was supposed to cool you down in this unbearable heat, yet your body only burned more under his ministration. Your walls desperately clenched down as your fingers tightened their hold on his ashen hair, trying to find any perch for your sanity to cling to. 

Your actions only spurred him on, harsh sucks to your swollen clit and fingers increasing their pace. He wanted to ravish you wholly, to leave you a mess beyond saving. White flashes shoot up your trembling legs still held apart by his iron grip. If he continues then you might really fall beyond the grace of help. 

“S-slower.”

Your slurred speech must’ve made your words incoherent, as Alhaitham only added more force behind his movements. Your slicked walls clenched around his fingers as they continued to pinpoint your weak spot, the messy licks and sucks at your clit causing the knot in your core to grow tighter and tighter. Or maybe your husband is just too famished to know mercy. 

Back raising off the bed, no matter how hard your fingers cling onto his hair and the messy sheets you couldn’t stop the fall off the edge as your eyes saw the back of your head. A broken moan resounded through the room. Hopefully, it’s too late for anyone on a late-night stroll past the open window. Every fiber of your being shivering and nerve overwhelmed with hot flashes of pleasure. All the while Alhaitham’s tongue never stopped its torture. 

Laying bonelessly upon the ruined sheets, hands limp by your side. Your chest heaves trying to remember how to breathe as a large figure looms over you. Your quivering pussy reluctantly released his fingers as a string of slick connected them.

Unfocused eyes watch as your husband’s tongue cleans the essences off, making sure to clean every inch. 

You felt so empty inside, the heat between your legs only escalating as your walls clenched around nothing. Was it the heat or pleasure that’s melting your mind? You don’t know and were too desperate to care. You wanted relief from the heat and judging by the hard shape pressed into your thigh, he needed relief too. 

Wordless your nimble fingers reached down, curling over the waistbands of his pants and boxers you pulled them down. Finally freeing his cock, it slaps against his naval as the leaking precum spears across his exposed skin. Playfully, your finger toys with his swollen tip, gathering up the precum as a hiss leaves his clenched teeth.

Making sure to look directly into his piercing eyes, you brought the finger into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around the digit and then pulling it out from your lips with an audible pop. 

Your shameless behavior earned you a guttural growl from Alhaitham, soon your hand was pinned above your head. His face was just inches away, the brilliant teal of eyes now wholly glazed over with crimson. Everyone is warned to never play with fire, but it’s just too addicting to resist. 

“Brazen girl,” he snarls. 

You countered with a grin, cheeks a deep red, but what’s there to hide from someone who’s laid you bare numerous times before? 

Sucking in a gasp as his thick tip rubbed against your negligent folds, your leaking walls trembling with anticipation. Longing for the stretch only he could offer you.

“Beg.”

Of course, nothing ever comes easily when it comes to him. Self-control honed by years of experience, all held by the iron grip of his analytical mind. A battle you’ll never win, so it’s best to sacrifice your self-respect in favor of your aching pussy. A fool for pleasure, gone far beyond the point of saving. 

“Please… I want you to ruin me… please ruin me.” Sinful words rolling off your tongue. 

Words that finally snapped the last thread of self-restraint Alhaitham had, instantaneously his hips met yours. Your gummy walls, long ingrained in his shape, welcomed the familiar stretch, clamping down as a wet slap resounded through the room. Alhaitham pushed his cock in further, pinning your body deeper into the mattress, hissing at the heat that engulfed his length. 

Your mouth falls open, pleasure shooting through overstimulated nerves, the bed creaking underneath you as his hips pulled away just to snap back. Setting a more punishing pace than usual, the bed shook in protest as your pussy welcomed each thrust, slick walls wrapping around his girth.

Moans flowed out of your mouth like how water flows through rivers, any semblance of embarrassment drowned out by molten pleasure. Two bodies connecting and mingling together to create a private heaven. 

Alhaitham’s hand abandons its grip on your wrist in favor of getting more leverage on your hips, purple marks promising to appear in the morning.

Before your muddled mind could process it, icy lips crashed into your plush ones, a tongue crossed the line. Sloppy and hungry was how his mouth devoured yours. Tongues clashing and dancing as he shallows each moan of yours. 

He pulls away momentarily as you took the opportunity to steal a few breaths. Scarlet-hazed eyes observe the transgression just committed before his lips moved back to reconnect with yours.

It’s clear he doesn’t give a damn about that arbitrary rule anymore. Why must forbidden acts always feel so good? 

Free hands now found purchase on his broad back, nails digging into the smooth skin trying to balance out the onslaught of pleasure invading every fiber of your being. Legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper into the sheets with you never once interrupting his savage pace.

Your attempts at staving off your independent orgasm were futile, teary eyes rolling back as your walls clenched and your body shook. 

Alhaitham released your lips in time to savor the broken symphony of a moan leaving your throat, the sheets underneath you a soaking mess, proof of your fall from cloud nine.

Despite this, your husband doesn’t slow down in the slightest. The sight in front of him only heightened the hunger in his eyes. 

The solid oak bed frame swayed in time with the pistoning of his thrust, tight walls clamping down yet giving no resistance as his thick tip continued to bully that sweet spot. His chilly breath against your nape, tongue running a wet trail to prepare the area. Sensations your melted mind could barely register.

His fingers dig deeper into your hips as he pulls them flushed against his, thick cock pressing further into your wanton core. 

A sharp prick shoots up your nape before the sensation of your walls being filled beyond capacity distracts from it. Your pussy pitifully attempts to suck in every last drop before succumbing, letting his essence join yours in making a mess of the sheets. Trembling hands run along his muscular back, pulling him closer to your heaving chest. 

Your pants counted in time with the hands of a clock, shards of your sanity slowly returning to you as gulps moved down Alhaitham’s throat. With a satisfied sigh, his incisors released your neck, tongue lapping over the escaped drops of scarlet.

Slowly pulling away from your embrace, his untainted teal eyes scan over you. Hair fanned out behind you, chest still heaving, and cheeks still violently flushed. You must look absolutely ruined, just as you asked of him. 

Carefully, he pulls out from your gummy walls, trembling walls allowed to gather their senses again. Detangling your legs from him with tender hands he repositions your droopy body comfortably along plush pillows. 

Humming in gratitude as you rolled onto your stomach, face buried into the luxurious pillows which held his opulent scent. The aftermath of passion gradually faded away from recovering nerves. The space next to you dips down as his frame joins you, a cool hand resting along the curve of your back. 

The soft sways of leaves in the night breeze, slowing pants, and the sweet lull of nothingness filled the air of this private haven. Two hearts, one mortal and one immortal, beating together.

“Would you want more time?” Came a question that broke the silence.

A hushed invitation slipped to you behind the watchful eyes of the divine. A lure towards deep waters by his beckoning voice. 

Perhaps your curiosity has influenced him as well. All your innocent inquiries must’ve muddled the line, question after question brushing away at the definition until misunderstanding took its place.

This won’t do. Your time is too short and his time too precious to be wasted on miscommunication.

Since it was you who muddled the line, it shall be you who reestablishes it. 

“I was born a human,” you began.

Pausing to enjoy the feeling of his cool fingers drawing unknown shapes into your back and the gentle vibrations of his hum. 

“I will die as one.”

With those simple words, the line was once again clearly drawn in the sand.

Separating you from him, and him from you. Just as the laws of morals, nature, and this world dictated. 

After all, it was you who said: “For a fraction of your time, I’ll give you all of mine”. Not the other way around. The price he’d have to pay is far greater than anything you’re willing to sacrifice.

No, you’re too selfish for that.

Under a waning moon, the market was lively tonight. Bright lanterns and stringed lights challenged the radiance of the sky’s stars. The twinkling momentarily distracts your mind from the cries of your muscles and the aches of your bones. 

What a simple thing you are, or perhaps you’re just a human in the purest sense. So entranced by the beauty of a rose, it distracts from the sting of thorns.

Such drab comparisons have no place in your thoughts tonight. 

As if to run away from them, your legs moved with volition, weaving in and out of the surges of crowds with clumsy grace, some haggling, some laughing, some yelling. 

Glazing up at the moon above, it was as if she was following your every step, watching, judging the performance of this daydream.

It wasn’t long before the volition faded away as you slowed to a halt, lung greedily trying to hog all the air they could. A herbal scent found its way to your senses, a quick glance to your left confirms your suspicions. 

It looks like your legs couldn’t carry you far enough in the end. Stopping right in front of a display of dried Kalpalata Lotuses, the moon must be laughing right now. 

You weren’t sure which one tasted more bitter, the herb or the irony.

Straightening your posture back up, ready to push through the burn of your muscles once more before a cold grasp grounded you back into reality. 

Whipping your head around, bewildered eyes connected with placid teal. There was a furrow in the brows that framed the hypnotic azure.

“Don’t go where my hand can’t reach.” Alhaitham’s atonal voice carried over the chatter of the streets. 

Bringing your husband out of the house, only to then leave him alone in a sea of people. What a capricious wife you are.

Perhaps Alhaitham foresaw this exact situation, that’d explain the recent spike in his reclusiveness. Seeing this, a giggle bubbled up in your throat. 

“Oh?~ Someone’s been watching my dramas. Where’d you learn that line from?” 

As he sighs your giggles only increased, cold fingers loosening around your wrist. 

“It’s exceptionally crowded tonight, be mindful of your surroundings.” 

You simply nodded along, a sign to him that you’re only absorbing half of his words, another sigh from him and another giggle from you. 

“A bag of Kalpalata Lotuses for the two of you tonight as well?” The vendor, ready with a fresh paper bag, intrudes on this raillery. 

Your lips pressed into a thin line, silencing your giggles as your eyes trailed over the dulled hues of the dried herb. 

Four hours went to three went to two and now down to one. Each cup becoming more and more unpalatable. There comes a point when a bucket can longer keep a sinking ship afloat, perhaps it’s better to gaze upon the starry night as one disappears under the waves.

“Actually… Padisarah tea tastes better, I want a bag of that instead.” A honeyed smile dawned upon your lips as you glazed back up at him. 

Alhaitham parts his lips, a response ready to fall off his tongue, but he closes them just as swiftly. Returning a hum of acknowledgment at your request, handing over the mora in exchange for the bag of dried Padisarah. 

Your attention has already shifted away from this scene, eyes avoiding the dull hues, finally landing upon wood carved with much creative liberty. There’s enough space for another sculpture no? It’d be nice to add more company to the home. 

Before the muscles in your legs could budge, a hand twitched, reminding you of the loose hold still around your wrist. 

A good partner should respect the wishes of their spouse. Warm fingers slide into the space between cold ones, intertwining like the lights above with the sky.

All it took was a soft tug for a human to move a vampire through the bustling crowd. 

A common phrase uttered to unwell patients is ‘mind over body’.

However, there’s only so much the body can take before it rebels against the mastermind.

Even your own body had enough of your selfishness. 

Protest taking the form of wheezes, lethargy, and that piercing ache forever present deep within. You were always the one to toe the line, pushing your luck to the limits and beyond, only stopped by a towering wall. 

It’s time to lay rest under silken sheets and plush pillows. Something you’ve been doing very often these days. Perhaps your body is just practicing for the ending.  

The cumbersome duvet fails to capture the wisps of warmth only a Sumerian Summer can offer, it fails to prevent the chill from penetrating deep into your every bone.

Dull senses alert you to a shift in weight on the mattress. Fighting against the leaden weight of your lids, you opened your eyes to the sight of your husband.

Ashen hair slightly trussed and button down wrinkled as his frame lays next to yours. He must have come here straight from the door, a once-practiced tradition slowly faded away much like strength from your limbs. 

The muscles on his face relaxed, neutral by default, yet his eyes were downturned much like the corners of his lips.

Your husband must be deep in thought. His thumb is digging into his palm again, it seems that Alhaitham has developed a new habit. Hazy eyes carefully focused on how the nail threatened to break the surface of his palm.

That’s no good. 

Ignoring the exhaustion, you slipped your fingers in between his, shielding his palm from the assaults of his thumb, settling into a gentle embrace as two rings clinked together.

The weight of a teal gaze centers on you.

“My husband is such a handsome actor.” Breathy voice barely a whisper. 

Chest protesting against your action with wheezes, but you needed to finish this script, it's what a co-star should do.

“You don’t have to play this role anymore.” Exposing your neck to him as your lashes fluttered shut, it was time to pay your dues. 

Much like the clauses written on parchment signed by two names, the ending of this script must be followed, your body already taking its cue.

At least the doctors were accurate this time, how punctual your body is. 

A brisk breath brushed against your nape, skin reacting with a trail of goosebumps as you feel the presence of sharp incisors draws near before grazing against your delicate neck. Your mind counts back, ready for the final pierce of pain to come. 

Three… Two… The pressure of his fangs disappears from your skin. Replaced by the touch of gentle lips.

Opening your eyes with confusion and lost anticipation, you were met with stoic eyes.

“You don’t have to hold yourself back.”

“I’m not holding myself back,” Alhaitham answers without the slightest pause.

Your chest wheezes once more at your lung’s clumsy attempt at gathering a breath.

“What a silly vampire,” you giggled, the crimson hues were obvious even to your dimming vision. 

After the numerous questions you asked and the innumerable answers he gave these past seven years, you still couldn’t fully comprehend him. Neither of you were the masterminds you thought you were, huh? 

In the end, both of you were fools trying to perform a stage play.

Your mind ponders this revelation as Alhaitham tugs the covers up your body, gentle hand running along your body through the thick fabric barrier. 

The faint ticks of a clock pull a buried secret from the guard sanctuary of your thoughts, dusting off the obscurity to reexamine the details in full clarity.

What was the end of the path like? Well, just like the scene blocked off by a garden wall under that moonless night, it’s all the same.

Maybe tonight you’ll tell him the truth.

What was over that wall? With its stones piled high and with moss creeping through its crevices, a wall that only creatures born within the grace of an undecided god could peer past. What did it conceal?

Nothing.

A nothingness so empty, ultimate peace could reside. 

Seems like you’ve discovered something new in the end, you shameless fool. Death is nothingness in the end, a nothingness that fingers pass right through. 

So instead of holding on to nothing, you’d rather grasp a cold hand as nothingness envelopes you. He didn’t seem to mind. 

You wanted to tell this to the creature who humored your daydream for all these years. If he doesn’t want your blood then you could at least impart this priceless insight to him. 

Oh, it’s such a shame that your tongue just won’t move anymore. Instead, you’ll offer him a smile. In hopes that Alhaitham could decrypt the curvature of your lips with his seven years of experience. To translate your silent message into a language known to man with his lifetimes of wisdom. 

It’s all you could do to thank him for holding your hand as the dirge of Summer crickets fade out and the last first rays of a grieving sun kiss the horizon. The final wisp of warmth escaping down your cheek. 

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

#al-haitham x you #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x yn #alhaitham smut #alhaitham scenarios #alhaitham angst #vampire alhaitham #genshin vampire au #genshin smut #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin angst #allhaitham fic #vivalabunbunfics #genshin x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin imagines #alhaitham imagines #genshin fluff #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham fanfic #genshin modern au

[thisfanisgonesorry]

ironhead — hobie brown

i got possessed and had an epiphany because to me this just makes SO MUCH sense. also i HATE writing accents fuck off. kinda mid i lowkey struggled w the dialogue idc the main point is that brother ties you up. i promise ill write him better if i write him again im just. THOUGHTS THOUGHTS THOUGHTS.

🕷

tags: smut, bondage, shibari, light dom/sub, i dont think hed like power dynamics, however; mutual light teasing (not a huge amount of dialogue, bros mouth is busy). tit play (i dont usually write this one, oh god), aftercare duh, lots of kisses cos holy fucking shit his lips look so nice SJAJAJA

(my reqs are open pleasepleasepleaseplease, ill write most of the guys from spv, pleasepleaseplease)

guys my beta reader died while reading this.. i hope its okay

🕷

“How does tha’ feel? Not dodgy?” He asked, tugging on the webbing. I was sitting on the bed, leaning against a pile of pillows as he made sure the web-ropes were secure and done up properly.

“Good.” I spoke, and he gestured for him to keep talking so he could make sure everything was going to go smoothly. “Uh, not too tight but not too loose. It’s fine, I think. Feels sticky.”

"Want me to walk you through this?” He asked, his hands resting on my knees. “This is a spiral futomomo, can y’move y’legs?”

“No.” I spoke, trying to move my legs, only able to shut my thighs together.

“This is just a basic star harness, usually don’t have the arms tied up. This one does ‘cause y’can’t keep your ‘ands to y’self.” He speaks briefly, his main goal is to get the point across to keep this all safe, and his secondary goal is to push my buttons as frequently as he can. He slapped the side of my tit, watching it bounce slightly. I took a sharp inhale at the unexpected feeling, and he used it as his chance to pinch my nipple harshly. “Then there’s a dragonfly sleeve to make sure y’stay still. Can you move?”

“No..”

“Good.” He spoke with another harsh tug and another slap, his eyes were glazed slightly as he admired the slight red hand print forming on the squishy flesh, forming very quickly — faster than he anticipated, the skin was just so delicate.

He repositioned us slightly, kneeling closer to me and trying to pull me to sit on his lap despite my efforts in keeping my legs shut.

“Darlin’, show me that pretty li’l cunt.”

I reluctantly spread my legs and he pulled me to sit on his thighs, nuzzling into my neck and pressing soft kisses into the skin.

“Can I get a snog?” I teased slightly.

“Don’t be cheeky.” He said firmly, ignoring me completely and lowering himself to my chest; making keen eye contact with me as he pressed a kiss on the reddening hand print, wrapping his plump lips softly around the areola.

He nipped at the skin slightly as his hand reached up to the other. He groped it for a moment, before pinching the nipple in his hand. There wasn’t an abundance of volume besides the wet sounds his mouth was making, though he noticed the way I writhed in his touch, groaning silently and breathing heavily.

His other hand dipped to between my thighs, feeling the wetness before rubbing his fingers in circles around the clit.

“That’s it.” He praised slightly, whispering into my flesh. “Good girl.”

I began to grind down onto his hand, feeling him enjoy his time with my tits. I sighed, throwing my head back and struggling against the sticky ropes. 

“Baby..”

“Stop squirming.” He warned.

I knew I had no hope of getting out of his webs, and if I did, there’d probably be a consequence to fucking up what he wanted to do but god, he looked so delectable. So touchable. I helplessly tried to grind myself on his fingers, trying to distract myself from the way my arms were tied to me.

“C’mon, ask nicely. I know y’want more.”

“Pretty please? Need more.” I asked sweetly.

His own need began taking over him and it was blatantly obvious; I could feel his rock hard dick pressing against my thigh through his pants.

“Y’sound so nice like that.”

He slipped his fingers inside me. groaning and bucking his hips as he felt the soft, wet walls. His thumb slowly rubbed my clit as his index and middle worked in a ‘come hither’ motion. He worked me slowly, planning to drag this out as long as possible for his own enjoyment. His movements were meticulous, extremely preplanned, like he’d been sitting on this fantasy for a long time, but that strategic energy didn’t last long.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot, love.” He groaned, trying to pronounce his words clearly despite his lust filled slur. He could feel the slight clench around his fingers, and the rest of his body got greedy with want.

“Keep doin’ that, right there, Hobes.”

He pressed his tongue flat against the nipple, opening his mouth enough to look erotic; He sat like there for a moment, catching my attention to watch him, a low groan crawling its way out of my throat. He had a smug grin as he moved to bite and suck on the flesh, his other hand no longer methodical, all it portrayed was an incessant need.

I let out a loud moan. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

Feeling the tight, squishy walls of my insides sent him into a desire filled stupor, doing nothing but greedily grabbing what he could as he worked me closer to orgasm. The feeling of his talented hands moving against my nerves was doing wonders, and it was doing those wonders quite fast.

He began grinding his hard dick against my thigh. “Y’so..” He groaned. “Bloody hell, you’re wretched.” He tried to joke.

“Coming from you.” I bit back, throwing my head back again as he kept fucking his fingers into me and torturing my tits.

“Wanted.. Had it all planned out. You’ve fucked it, yeah? So fuckin’ hot. Can’t resist.”

“Not my fault you got worked up so fast.”

“Don’t.” He grunted with a harsh bite. “You’re so tight, love, need to bury my cock in you. Need..” He groaned.

“Keep talkin’ like that and I’m gonna cum.”

“Need’a feel y’cum around my fingers. On my prick. Let me feel that tight cunt, baby. Gonna fuck you all night long.” He rambled, pressing soft kisses on the flesh, watching the flowering bruises form.

He could sense the impending orgasm as my breathing got heavy and rapid, grinding against his hand messily and squirming at the restraints. 

“Shit..”

“You’re so close.” He taunted. “Let me feel it.”

My mouth opened and closed like I was gasping for air, his mouth trailed from my tits, up to my collarbone, neck, jaw and eventually landed intoxicatingly sweetly on my mouth. 

“Hobes.” I moaned into his mouth and he swallowed it with a welcoming groan.

“Y’re so pretty like this ‘n we still ‘ave all night.” He spoke, pulling my body closer to his as he moved his mouth to the other breast, planning to mark it up too.

“Mhm. I’m gonna—”

“Please.”

That was it. I couldn’t survive much longer, I tried to tug on the ropes but to no avail as I began clenching desperately around his fingers.

“Hobie, Hobie..” I moaned.

“Y/n, Y/n.” He moaned back in an attempt to mock me.

I slumped down, resting my head on his shoulder as I moaned loudly, letting myself unwind and cum all over his fingers. I kept struggling against the ropes and he grabbed my wrists, trying to hold it in place as he groaned at the feeling of my spasming cunt. He kept trying to fuck into me as I came down from the high.

I gasped and panted for air, leaning against him and he pulled his drenched fingers out, sticking them in his beautiful mouth before whispering. “Keep strugglin’ and you’re gonna hurt yourself.” He spoke, not as a warning but as a statement.

“Wanna touch you.”

“That’s why the ropes are there, love.” He breathed heavily, grinding his aching cock against the wetness, ruining his jeans slightly. “God.” He grunted. “You’re so sexy.” 

“Go on.” I rolled my eyes sarcastically, leaning forward to kiss him.

— When he says ‘all night’, he really means it.

🕷

BONUS ROUND:

“Don’t fall asleep on me, darlin'.” He spoke as he quickly cut the webbing around my arms, before struggling to take off the harness without moving me around too much, laying me down on the soft pillows.

“Rope burn.” I mumbled tiredly, rubbing my wrists the second they were free.

“That wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t squirm so much.”

I let out a hum as an indirect response to let him know I acknowledge it. He removed the harness and began kissing my wrists slightly, looking up at me with soft eyes. He placed quick kisses on my neck where the rope dug into the skin as he lazily sliced open the fotomomo knots.

The second that one of my legs were free, he gently grabbed my calf and pulled the leg out so it laid straight

“Move around, stretch ‘em out.” He directed.

I moved my legs around, trying to get the stiffness out as he held my calf, pressing soft kisses into the skin before quickly untying the other and doing the same.

“Keep stretchin’ it, good girl.”

Once both legs were stretched out and he was satisfied with the amount of kisses littered over them, he raised back to my body, pressing a soft kiss on my lips.

“Can you get me a shirt?” I asked weakly with a grin.

He sucked his teeth as he got up, looking for one of his shirts that I could put one on and comfortably sleep in.

“Next time, I’m tying a vibrator between your legs.” He joked as he dug through the wardrobe.

✰ pt 2 >> LET ME HEAR YOU SCREAM

#marvel #hobie brown #smut #spiderverse #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown x reader one shot #hobie brown x you #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #hobart brown #hobie x reader #atsv #atsv x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk #atsv hobie #hobie brown fluff #spiderpunk x you #hobie brown fanfic

[birdmenmanga]

@raventhekittycat

hi okay so I've been mulling this one over for the past day or two and I think I have the answer. not to be using hamburger to explain anything to an american but you're my detco mutual so I'm going to try and explain it in detco terms

There's a post going around recently about how if you've read detco and only detco, the first time hakuba shows up you're going to be totally flummoxed, because damn this guy is clearly important, he gets to be even cooler than Shinichi, he's got a half-page shot of him (in such a panel-dense series such as Detective Conan, no less!!) and he's got a fucking hawk. he's CLEARLY important. everything about the narrative is indicating that you need to PAY ATTENTION to hakuba and that he's the coolest guy and he's important!!!! and then he dies in the case lol (not for real. but still.)!! and you're like huh??? what was that. why did aoyama do that.

But with the context of magic kaito this totally makes sense. He's a beloved character that people have been waiting decades to see again. Of course Aoyama is going to hype him up!! It's his big moment after years of being locked in the backrooms!!!

Anyways reading birdmen for me was kind of like that. The author's previous series, Kekkaishi, was pretty one-dimensional at the beginning, and even after the main plot started picking up at around volume 6, it still felt quite understandable. I knew what she was trying to get at, and the spectacular job she did with the anthropocene and climate change metaphor towards the end of that series really made me interested in the rest of her works. That and the way she writes familial relationships is absolutely DEVASTATING. (I mean this with the highest of praise)

But when I read BIRDMEN for the first time, I was probably in... middle school, maybe? And I read it, sure, but I didn't get it. I could see what was literally happening on the page but the narrative choices were absolutely baffling at times. Why skip over the entire part of the plot where they figure out who the birdman that saved them was? She blatantly doesn't care about that. What does she care about then?? I knew I didn't get it, I knew there were parts of it that were important and I couldn't figure out why and THAT'S how it dug its pretty little claws into me. Even after I finished catching up it nagged at me a little bit, not often at all, but enough that every once in a while I go, huh, right, that was a thing, let me go read it again.

For the record this type of story haunting has happened to me twice. First time was the Heart of Thomas, second time was BIRDMEN. I think the thing is that these are both stories which are not what other people say they are and I think I came into both of these stories with a misconception, trying to look too hard for things that weren't important and therefore missing the things that were.

Because sure, BIRDMEN is about mental illness. Yeah, it's about an evil scientific organization growing mutants in a lab. Yeah, it's about what it means to leave your humanity behind. That's all technically correct, on a surface level, and the fandom at large likely agrees with these takes for the most part, but in my opinion none of that really delves into what the thematic messaging of the story is about.

There are cryptic conversations about authority and human extinction and peculiar outfit and ability choices. You can tell these choices weren't made to serve the purpose of "writing exciting shonen manga" because that was what she did for the most part in Kekkaishi and you can tell she wasn't putting her whole pussy into doing that here. So what was she doing? What's like. All of this. Waves my hands at this.

The short answer is that it's really about the interplay between capitalism (represented by humanity) and communism (represented by birdmen), and explores the role institutional white supremacy (EDEN) plays in enforcing capitalism. It is ALSO about queer liberation and the importance of community, but hey, that double-stacks conveniently with the communism metaphor.

But also take this opinion of mine with a grain of salt. As far as I know I'm the only one who really truly deeply believes that it is not only AN interpretation of the work, but one that was fully intended by the author.

So basically, I like it, because I think it says something true and beautiful that I also believe in, even if I didn't have the words for it the first time I read it. But I don't really think that's what people really look for in a media recommendation.

Do I like it? Yes, I love it. Will I recommend it to others? Yeah, sure. But do I think it's deeply flawed? Yeah, absolutely. It's flawed in the same ways as The Witch from Mercury— a rushed ending, too many threads that were opened and never tied together. The pacing and characterization is perfect in the beginning, and too rushed at the end. There are prerequisites you basically HAVE to read in order to understand the story (tempest for G-Witch and the communist manifesto for birdmen). I think a truly good story wouldn't have any of these things so if people don't like it I never blame them.

It's my personal experiences that make birdmen so profound to me. If you are not queer I just don't think Eishi coming out as a birdman to his mom will hit the same, just as an example. Sorry that I wasn't the kid you wanted me to be. I know you love me and you just want the best for me and that's why you're so controlling, because you think I can be saved by conforming to societal expectations. But I can't live like that. I can't be like that. And that's why I must go. etc.

Aesthetically I do love birdmen a lot. If I had to describe it in a few words it would probably be "chilling", "beautiful", and "powerful", which nicely coincides with the type of things I personally like to draw. It's also silly to a small degree but it's so serious and I know Tanabe can be way way way funnier (read kekkaishi for this. kekkaishi and hanazakari no kimitachi he were foundational to my sense of sequential art humor) so that's not really the standout trait of this series.

I can't let it go because I'm chewing this series like a bone. And it's taking me years but I am getting that sweet sweet marrow. By god. We are on year 3 of this shit and I am GOING to understand this series. and I'm going to make 3 video essays about it

#just thinking thoughts... #stray bird thoughts #so it's like... I don't like it because birdmen is good #I think I like it because I am a certain type of person and the author was trying to say something specifically to the type of person I am #OH #I'M THE TARGETED AUDIENCE THATS WHY I LIKE IT. #YEAH THATS REALLY IT!!! #A long time ago I said that birdmen wasn't written for the people who read it at the time it serialized. #it was written for the people they would become. #and I stand by that 100% #if it really stays with you there is going to be a reason even if you can't articulate it yet #and it may APPEAR sloppy to someone who doesn't see the queer or communist metaphor #like 'what is she doing what is she saying here she's not saying anything meaningful and emphasizing the wrong things' #but that sort of presumes she is gunning to make 'the best shonen manga ever' #which she clearly isn't. #I remember when I was reading fma with a bunch of my classmates and I'd lend them a volume or two every day #and a piece of feedback I received that has stuck with me was 'volume 15 was so boring' #(that was the volume recounting the ishval civil war. it was boring because we were middle schoolers and didn't REALLY get it.) #and like. I think to people who are looking for something like kks. the whole thing is going to feel like fma volume 15 #like WHAT is she going on about? ? ? #like witch hat and dunmesh I think are similar types of stories but I think these two are just executed way better than bm #but because of that it is just not as compelling to me you know. #like yeah yeah it's well constructed. we all see it's well constructed. #the metaphor is so well constructed that I don't feel the need to point it out. everyone is saying it already you know #but bm is cryptic enough and just slightly missed that execution enough that I feel like I'm pulling the analysis out of a smoking wreckage #recently I've been watching mentourpilot videos about airplane accidents and like. that's exactly it. #there's nothing to say about a perfectly executed flight. #it's the ones that failed. and in particular the ones that just barely failed by a little bit. that compels people the most. #cue my de communism is failure post. bc that bm sure did fail.

[livetogether--diealone]

trick or treat 💜💚

ask and you shall receive some sewis. i promise one day i will actually finish this thing i started back in june, so let's rewind until monaco 2023 -> ask game

“Are you going to pick that up?” Toto’s voice pulled him back from daydreaming about doing something to spice the day up so he would have to answer a million questions and have no time to keep thinking about a singular text message.  

“Mh?” Lewis glanced at his phone discarded next to his seat, the id caller read Seb. He instantly recoiled at the notion but moved to grab the phone anyway, and he slid it towards George “Throw it into the sea”. 

“George don’t throw it into the sea” Toto didn’t even look up from the stack of papers he was examining and with a really annoyed sigh he got up to answer the still ringing device to Lewis’ dismay. He slid the green icon and handed it to him, “I’m not playing intermediary between you and another blonde german ever again”. 

“You look good, not that I can really see from this distance, but I know you look good” was what awaited him on the other end of the line. Lewis’ mouth was dry, he prided himself in being good at speeches, in measuring his words, knowing what to say, being calm and collected, but not with him, maybe in the media he could craft something that didn’t sound so desperate and needy about Seb, drifting back on the racing and the support he always had for and from him. That was such different from having Seb clashing into him walking to the track, grabbing him in parc fermé, whispering encouragements, compliments, lame jokes, everything.   

It was lie that he couldn’t see how good Lewis looked, he did see how good he looked because George sent him a photo mere minutes before, Lewis looked like he’d rather throw himself out of the boat, but the see-through cream ensemble was good, the flower embroidery was good, the lines of Lewis’ body peeking through the lace were more than good. For a moment he felt self-conscious about his own rather simple clothes, but as George told him in not so many words he liked you when you were going around in plaid shorts and ill-fitting tshirts, he’ll like you forever now; Seb wasn’t sure how he ended up being reassured by George Russell, he knew because he told Charles he was coming to Monaco, the monegasque would have probably dropped dead if Seb decide to turn up without notice, then his best bet was that Charles told Pierre, who is a known gossip, who told Yuki, who told Alex who obviously told George, who was shameless enough to text him I though you two were fucking already why all the fuss about coming to a race Seb was only glad he said it outside of the shared chat with the rest of the grid. It all felt pretty stupid if he was thinking rationally, the clothes, being nervous about seeing Lewis, the hiding in the paddock, but he wasn’t and he hadn’t in a while.  

#i so want to finish this but writer block is so real about this #so i just keep looking at that hug gif and i daydream #sewis #lewis hamilton #sebastian vettel #f1 rpf #jo.fic #ask time

[primeministerofantarctica]

A3! reading club: prologue

Starting off with a prolepsis is a nice technique, although I think it's interesting that only Harugumi gets spotlighted here. Probably to avoid spoilers from later troupes.... Either way, I love how Sakuya's observations serve as an introduction to the other members. Masumi's cool-headed, Tsuzuru won't rest until his scripts are perfect, Itaru's anxious about pulling this off successfully (he does care :')), and Citron's a man of mystery.

I never really thought about this before, but I like that the prologue establishes that Izumi has the experience and knowledge necessary to qualify as a theater director. She's not just diving in headfirst with no idea what she's doing.

Also, this whole "street act" thing sends me every time it's mentioned. Veludo Way has to be a tourist destination, surely Izumi's not the first person to freak out over someone faking an illness. You know those horror stories about comedians dying of heart attacks on-stage bc the audience thought they were doing A Bit; this seems like a disaster waiting to happen. What if you got into an argument with someone and a bunch of strangers started clapping.

At least Tasuku's nice enough to come over and make sure Izumi's alright. He's not going to be really relevant for a good long while, but we're already establishing that he does care about other people, despite Godza's "every man for himself" culture.

Oh, Tsuzuru, just be glad you're not a college student in the US. >_>

Sakyo, you JUST recognized the first and only person you had a crush on, the daughter of Yukio himself, and you're telling her to get lost? Why? Are you trying to save Izumi from the heartbreak of caring about something futile? Because if so, you absolutely suck at it.

Izumi's reactions are the best. Also, shout-out to Sakai-san for being able to pull off "bad at acting" without dissolving into the 100% flat monotone typical when actors try to play bad actors. You can tell Sakuya's trying, but his pauses are placed just randomly enough to be awkward. From an acting standpoint, that's got to be incredibly hard to pull off.

This makes me wince. In retrospect, it's so obvious how much Sakyo cares about this theater. He was willing to pause the demolition project for the absolutely miniscule chance that Matsukawa had somehow, miraculously, secured a bestselling performance. Of course he hasn't, but the fact that Sakyo was still willing to give him one more chance speaks volumes.

Unfortunately, he's also a realist, and he's right. People love touting "hard work" as the only thing an artist needs to succeed, but without money, most people simply don't have the financial stability to really dedicate themselves to their craft. It's harsh, it sucks, and it's unfair, but it's also true. I don't remember if we get Sakyo's backstory in the main story or a later event, but going off it it makes sense that this is the additude he's adopted.

This hits harder after finding out Sakuya basically ran away from home :(. Not like he couldn't go back to his aunt and uncle, but that's got to be crushing.

I love how Izumi is mentally pspspsing Matsukawa SO HARD to back her up, just like he did with her earlier. There is a single braincell ping-ponging between these two and Sakyo's just watching this trainwreck.

Sakuya's reaction to Matsukawa saying he cooks all the food is gold. Ofc he's too polite to say it outright, but the fact that even Sakuya feels the need to warn Izumi about Matsukawa's culinary skills is just. So funny.

Speaking of which, I think it's interesting how Sakuya's (known optimist and sunshine child) first reaction to realizing Izumi was lying is a despondent "Does that mean the troupe is going under after all?" He immediately cheers up and snatches the smidge of hope offered to him, but this little piece of character writing goes a long way in setting up his hopefulness as something that isn't based on naivety.

I'm running out of screenshots and too far in to consider making another post, but gosh. Masumi, I love you, but you are making it REALLY easy to remember why I didn't at first. I will concede that his blushing and not being able to look Izumi in the eyes is cute, though. If there was more of that and less of...this, I might have warmed up to him a lot earlier.

Also, Tsuzuru agreeing to join after finding out there's free food is an absolute Mood. Five minutes of screen time and he's already a voice for college students everywhere.

The last few minutes are pretty much what we'd expect - Tsuzuru (very conveniently) says he's a scriptwriter, Izumi eagerly accepts the free labor before he can join a union (I'm joking, I'm joking.), they run back to the theater and Sakyo says he'll give them one more chance. The conditions won't be revealed until the next chapter, but it really is a testament to Sakyo's love for Mankai just how lenient he's being. A month might be cutting it pretty close when prepping for a play, but Sakyo's a debt broker in the freaking Yakuza, and almost definitely acting as a middleman between this company and someone higher up. Ofc the Yakuza here are a lot more lighthearted than the ones in real life, but that's still got to be incredibly risky.

#astra rambles #a3! reading club

[istherewifiinhell]

1, 12, 18 for rottnmt? 🥺

THANK U BESTIE. giving so many fun things to think about while im at work ahahah.

1. the character everyone gets wrong

I will say i blame no one its basically a non issue but i do find evil au draxums very funny. Like! he little is a villian he DID want to destory humanity he does have a villain music number. all true. also his turning sides is s2 so. BUT ANYWAY. very funny to have him be like. evil maybe abusive dad type in aus. im sorry the guy who using 2 tiny incompetent gargoyles as henchmen/paldrons... he lets em sleep in the little dog bed..... 🥺. Hes a cartoon villian but hes got offers dental typa guy... imho.

Also personal i think these a tendacy to lean donnies personality too far in any direction. why nerf his autism swag like that... he drinks flavourless juice AND invented the messiest nasty looking sandwich ever. sometimes he does not like touch sometimes he throws his dad into the air to hug him. he has LAYERS.

LAST THING. my bro said to mention gay coded leo cause "im homophobic". jhgfdb. I just didnt read him as particularly more queer coded than his brothers.... theyre ALL a little flamboyant okaayyyyyyy. turtles are lgbtq (what all at once? yes.)

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

are there unpopular characters in rise kinda feel... not really. ILL SAY. Casey senior just cause she kinda takes the back seat after movie with casey jr..... do yall understand how many fake outs she was.... you could think shes karai due to being in the foot clan or maybe think shed get mutated into mona lisa (her voice actress played the one in 12!).

BUT NAW! angry bruser, sporty, vigilanty CASEY JONES. I love her..... also that she joins the squad cause SPLINTER. was like. oh a troubled youth... they need guidance. extremely cute. 90s movie splinter moment. based. thing we were robbed of #587. Rise casey and raph BREAKING SHIT together. as fweinds....

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

i really like thinking about the arcs we didnt get to see in unfinshed rest of season 2 and 3.... there was gonna be more mystic stuff, the family actually getting along with draxum more naturally.... GIRL TURTLES (<- dissolves into goo).

i wanna think about it. i wanna think about the raph leo becoming co leaders thing.... the showwww so so so primed for them working together and not having a direct hiercharly system fits cause this is the iteration they designed to be more like a typical family. that why splinter had a career that is not. ninja master. lol, thats why they are different ages (sorry to any quadruplets out there). and after the ages where the childhood developmental stages that are gonna favour the eldest sibling. Most siblings do not have one leader they have to listen to abt shit. [That aint a diss on how other iterations are its just a different essay lol...]

as for something that actually ended up IN the show... fav fav moment makes me cry when every i rewatch or even THINK ABOUT IT. The moment that lets Splinter reconcile the pain that the Hamato clan brought him, with the legacy, intention, and love, it was created with.

Under cut cause its some of the very last stuff that happened in the show.

The moment when Splinter's mom, (had to check ->), Atsuko shows up with the rest of the Hamato ancestors. she puts her hands next to splinter and she looks at him so so fondly and she repeats HIS action movie catch phrase. and THATS the moment Splinter, Hamato Yoshi can like. come to peace about the clans legacy.... Perfect culmination of his arc....

like it PROVES. his whole life the legacy of this clan was what was taking his family AWAY. his mom, probably his grandpa? he was suppose to let his sons GET MARTYRED. he left his family, as they had left him. but as they say anata wa hitori janai.... his mom still saw!!! HIS LIFE. his movies. Sees him as he grew, as a mutant, and the love between family is literally magic that keeps them together. THATS what Karai wanted it to be..... I jsut think we should talk about and the sad rat man healing from generation trauma. MAYBE. Cause he loves his mommy. [finally. A splinter with MOMMY ISSUES/BRICKED]

#some shit #turbles... #BEAUTIFUL SELECTION. BASKING IN THEM. forever sad about beautiful show killed in her cradle.... #I KNOWWW. about the other turtles. i know. GIVE ME THEM. #okay. added more to last quesyion so thered be less spoiler stuff to read along wth the spoilers. just in case.

[miya2006]

Weird family, but it works. And I love them!

The heat was bad, it felt as if they were filming on the sun and the stage lights definitely weren't helping the case. Boyd has been feeling ill the past couple of days but hasn't had any symptoms. Not even towards Covid, he is just sick and tired. 

The days on set felt longer and longer, and the weird glances from his co-workers grew by the hour. It wasn’t like Boyd to stumble over his lines or his own feet. He could see, compared to when he was in The sandman. He couldn’t see with the glasses of the Corinthian but now he can. 

People have asked him if everything is okay, but he always says yes. He doesn't need anyone to worry, he doesn’t want anyone to worry. Worry means that people would actually care and look after him. 

He doesn’t want to waste anyone’s time or energy. He is 41 years old, he should be able to take care of himself right?

Well turns out he can’t, not until it becomes painfully aware just how sick he is. It was a normal day at set and Boyd still felt as bad as before. He was dizzy, nauseous and felt like his entire body was just some lump of exhaustion. He tried to keep everything under wraps but it didn’t last long. Timothy must have sensed something was wrong so he had cornered Boyd in his trailer, his worry over Boyd becoming too much.

He had noticed what the others probably hadn’t. He has seen the slight shiver Boyd had, and it hadn’t gone away even after Boyd got some warm clothes to wear. Timothy likes Boyd, he is a great actor and Timothy is over the moon that they got Boyd to play Clement.

He walked into Boyd’s trailer without warning, more chance of Boyd not being able to hide it again. Timothy has tried a couple of times to talk to Boyd but everytime he always denies anything is wrong and just smiles at him and tells him not to worry. This time he won’t be able to.

He walked in and noticed Boyd on the couch, his head in his hands and a bucket by his side. He could see a slight shake in his body as if he was cold. Boyd jumped when the door suddenly closed with a bang, looking up at Timothy with a confused look.

“You okay, Boydo?” He asked, he knew the answer but he had decided to give Boyd one chance before he put his foot down and told Boyd to just let them in a bit or he might get worse in terms of sickness and his general mental health. 

Timothy always sees mental health as something important to talk about, and he didn’t need to spend a long time with Boyd to see that there was something hiding between the surface. Something many wouldn’t see unless they had experienced bad mental health themselves. And he had a suspicion that Boyd had pushed himself too hard and his body became sick from the lack of rest.

“Not really..” Timothy walked over and felt Boyd’s forehead, noticing the small amount of throw up in the bucket as well.

“You’re burning up, Kiddo.” He said as he ran his fingers through Boyd’s hair. Making a last minute decision he texted Vivian and asked if she could bring his backpack from his trailer.

“Alright, so here’s what we are going to do. You sit here and relax for a bit while I pick up some of your stuff and then we will meet up with Vivian and go home. You will be joining me and Vivian at our place, my wife and other kids are not here right now so the house will be quiet and calm.” He said, Boyd understood by the stern voice that he didn’t really have much room to protest. Not that he would anyways, he can’t really help but look at  Timothy as a brother figure but in times like these where he takes care of Boyd, he goes from brother to father. 

“Ok” Came the small voice from the couch. Seeing and hearing how bad Boyd was feeling he hurried with picking up some stuff from the little wardrobe as well as the book he had seen Boyd reading earlier this week. As well as some toiletries like his toothbrush if he felt strong enough at some point to brush his teeth. 

Once finished he walked over to Boyd and put his arm around his waist in case he wasn’t steady enough to stand on his own. Together they slowly walked outside the trailer and met with Vivian. She took one single look at Boyd before she fondly but concerned shook her head a bit before flanking him between her and her father as they walked to the car. 

Timothy got in the front seat, though he did so after a small argument over who was going to sit in the back with Boyd. Neither wanting him to sit alone in the back but neither of them wanting to leave his side if anything were to happen.

Vivian didn’t mind, she had talked to her father about her worries over Boyd in the last couple of days. Even if Timothy hadn’t gone into his trailer, she would find a way to get Boyd with them anyways. She likes Boyd, he doesn’t act like she only got the part because of her dad. He is like her brother, he teases her and messes up her hair and makes her laugh when there is nothing for her to do on set so she won’t get bored.

They lived about a 20 minute drive away from the set, and Vivian could feel her worry build more and more when she saw how the traffic was getting heavy. Lucky for them it seems the traffic came behind them rather in front of them.

Boyd leaned his head on Vivian’s shoulder, too tired to hold his head up. Making a rash decision she took out Boyd’s seatbelt and moved him so he could lay down a bit. With his head in her lap, she started to run her hands through his hair, hoping it would bring him some comfort. 

Despite the pain in his head, Boyd opened his eyes slightly and smiled up at her. No word said, just an understanding look meeting a thankful one. Timothy smiled to himself when he looked in the rearview mirror and noticed what Vivian had decided.

With the feeling of her fingers running through his hair, it didn’t take Boyd long before he fell asleep. And not long before they arrived at their house either. Neither wanted to wake Boyd, he looked peaceful for once. The past couple of weeks he has seemed bothered by something as well as restless. Never seeming to be able to keep still in one place. 

A lot of people on set were worried, all of them could see something wasn’t right. But no one dared to confront him about it, unsure of how he would react. Timothy couldn’t help but think about how far it could have gone if he hadn’t lost his patience. 

He is undoubtedly happy he lost his patience when he did. He does not for the life of him want to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t. How sick could Boyd have gotten? Would he be able to get home safe? Or would he be able to get home at all?

Shaking his head, he stood up and opened the door on the other side of Vivian. Leaning over to pick Boyd up bridal style and making sure he was able to rest his head in Timothy’s neck rather than leaning it backwards with no support.

Vivian ran ahead to open the door downstairs before continuing into the guest bedroom closest to them and found some blankets before laying them out on the couch.

Timothy placed Boyd down while Vivian went to get the bags from the car. 

He looked down at Boyd, suddenly being hit with what they had missed for days. The dark circles under his eyes, the almost constant frown when he thought people weren’t looking. He ran his hand through Boyd’s slightly sweaty hair when it fell down in his face. 

Timothy is fully aware of what Boyd look at him. Like he is a family member, a brother or sometimes - like now- a father. And Timothy finds that he does not mind. Not one bit. 

Vivian walked up to her room after a little while of them sitting in silence once she was back. Timothy didn’t leave, he didn’t want Boyd to wake up alone in a place he hadn’t even been in before.

The outside grew darker and he grew hungry. Texting Vivian to come down to keep an eye on Boyd, when she had sat down he nodded to himself and went ahead with some dinner. Figuring Boyd probably wouldn’t feel up to much he made some basic pasta with vegetables. A standard favorite and expectation whenever someone in the house got sick.

When he walked back out with the food he couldn’t help but smile. Boyd has woken up and is hugging Vivian while she is rubbing his back and hugging back just as tight as he does.

He placed the food down and gave the kids each their bowl. Before turning on the tv on low volume. Once they had eaten, he checked Boyd’s forehead again. Luckily almost no fever, his sweating had gone away yet the shaking was still there. 

Together they moved Boyd up into the room closest to the master bedroom so Timothy could keep an eye on him in case something happens. 

And it did come in handy, in the middle of the night Timothy sat upright in bed in a matter of seconds. His brain took a second to figure out what was going on, once he understood he launched himself out of bed and ran into the room Boyd was occupying, Vivian right behind him. 

The screaming died down and crying filled the room, and he pulled a bit on Boyd so he was leaning into his chest and holding him close he gently rocked him.

“It’s okay, let it out. It’s okay, darling.” He whispered into the darkness, his eyes scanning the room trying to find Vivian. Almost as if she had read his thoughts she had stood up; 

“I’m going downstairs to get him some water. I’ll come into your room with it.” She said before taking her leave. Slowly Boyd made a clear movement and a little nudge at Timothy. 

Together they stood up slowly, Boyd taking some shaky steps as they walked across the hall. Getting under the covers, Boyd hid his face in Timothy’s chest. Vivian came in as well and climbed in on the other side of Boyd leaning her head on his arm.

Silence overtook the room as he drank a bit of the water. Timothy sent him a small comforting look, not pushing but concerned about what just happened in the room not even 5 meters away from where they are now. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Timothy asked, his mind jumping from idea to idea over what it could be. 

“It was about David..” Just that sentence alone made Timothy’s heart break. He knew how close they were, he has listened to several stories about him and he has seen how many times he has worked with Boyd. And he has always had a suspicion that David views Boyd the same way he does. 

Vivan must have felt somewhat the same, as she cuddled closer before kissing Boyd on the forehead. 

“I’ll leave you two for the night. "Sleep well.” She said, sending a glance over to Timothy. Wanting to check that he would be alright, giving her a nod, she smiled and took her leave for the night.  

Timothy didn’t know what to say, or if he even knew what the right thing to say is. So he pulled Boyd closer and whispered;

“It’s okay. You lost someone very dear to you. It’s normal even though it has been many years since. You’re still human, Boyd. And if you have another nightmare tonight, I’ll be here. So get comfortable because you wont leave this room and be on your own after this.” Timothy counted it as a victory when Boyd smiled. 

“I don’t feel that sick anymore. No need to throw up, just a small headache.” 

“That’s good, I think you slept off most of it and the food certainly helped. This role of yours for the new project seems to take more of a toll on you than you realize.” He said, but they both knew that a conversation like that would be happening soon enough.

“Yeah..” Was all Boyd said before silence overtook yet again. Timothy kept up the movement of running his fingers through Boyd’s hair and it didn’t take long before he could feel Boyd’s breathing slowing down before it evened out and his body relaxed. 

TImothy pulled him closer before succumbing to the sleepiness as well.

The rest of the night went without incident, both the resident of the room slept safe and sound as did the one resident a bit further down the hall.

Can be found on AO3 as well: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51200383

#boyd holbrook #timothy olyphant #vivian olyphant #justified #justified: city primeval

[springtrappd]

not trying to sound rude or aggressive or anything i swear, but what exactly Is it abt like. eclipse and ruin in general that you have critiques of? i'm still trying to figure out exactly what i think of it myself - it wasn't ANYTHING like what i was expecting, and to be perfectly honest i was also one of the Book Doubters(trademark pending) so that was a huge culture shock to me as well. idk i go in-between being really impressed and really liking it, to being salty that it wasn't what I think a good chunk of ppl including myself were expecting? looks like there's gonna be more down the line as far as this SB storyline goes so i'm curious and cautiously optimistic. i'm not totally sold on the mimic yet but thats probably bc I haven't been reading the tales books. guess i should start now lmao

i should make it clear that i actually haven't finished ruin yet, which is why i've been holding back on talking about it -- i'm up to bonnie bowl! so i'll refrain from commenting on that, except to say that the gameplay is a massive improvement from sb and only has more minor design flaws vs the base game's... fundamentally broken, lmao. they listened to criticism, refined their ideas and executed them with the resources available, and they did it well! i have mostly positive things to say on that front, which is nice. :)

eclipse is harder to talk about because... like, to give you an idea of how badly it effected me: it pissed me off so bad i started dissociating for the rest of the night, gave me stress stomach-aches when I refused to stop playing and then woke me up at 6am this morning nauseous and in pain. and that's not me being a wimp, that's me experiencing somatization, which is a real thing that i struggle with a lot, so hopefully you can understand why I'm not exactly keen to talk about this? especially when literally every time i even try to someone gets mad at me for breathing. please keep this in mind as i go on to say: eclipse is ableist as fuck and completely inexcusable.

as presented within ruin's visit to the daycare, the dca is left in a state of disrepair after the earthquake and subsequent abandonment left the pizzaplex to fend for itself. they're trapped between their two personalities, with both of them insisting that they are the one who knows what they should do; sun wants to be a good boy and do arts and crafts and whatever, and moon wants to send everyone to bed, blah blah you know the drill. as you complete the segment sun and moon regularly argue with each other, with sun holding the upset moon back from attacking cassie as she reactivates the generators, turning the lights on and stunning moon long enough for her to whack him with the faz-wrench, forcing a system reboot... and he's immediately reborn as eclipse, a lovely and kind figure with no memories of anything that happened who gently escorts you out and wishes you well. he's fixed now, you see! you did it! you got rid of his evil split personality, you've made him normal again, and without the aberration that is plurality he has not a cruel bone in his body!

the implications of this are incredibly fucking obvious and deeply deeply upsetting, and why i'm gonna point-blank say i'm not entertaining further discourse over whether this is reaaaally ableist or if they reaaaaally meant for them to read as a system or... nope, it's done, we're not fucking going there. it doesn't matter what they intended -- what they intended is pretty obvious, actually; they've decided to tackle a subject they're incredibly ill-equipped to handle, and the result is a character -- descended from the visual language and cultural canon of tales like split and psycho -- whose arc concludes with the reveal that it was being a system that made them violent. and the boss fight was dumb and bad and ignored all the previously-explained mechanics of this character to do this. it is aggressively stupid fanservice that turns what was once simply "poor taste walking the line of good faith" into "actual offensive caricature with zero room for doubt", and the only thing more despair-inducing than this twist is the community of people gleefully eating it up as their yummy angst fuel for their ultimate comfort character. and i shouldn't be surprised, considering it's coming from the "how dare you ask me to examine why i find it scary when the dca experiences altered identity states" crowd, but i am, unfortunately, an idealist doomed to be let down by normies. huzzah.

as for the mimic: I'm perfectly fine with afton getting laid to rest (he deserves it!), I'm not one of those guys, but in its current iteration (and from my understanding of it) it suffers immensely from having literally zero reason to be doing any of this shit and being yet another rejection of the supernatural in favour of sci-fi bullshit. because it's from the novels and the novels are allergic to ghosts. and having your entire story drip-fed in mediocre spin-off novels filled with blatant fetish content marketed to naive twelvies is so obviously bad storytelling that i don't even think i need to get into the piss-poor prose and legitimately cruel messages to explain why i hate that one

#speaking! #discourse #asks #anon #ruin spoilers #long post #long long post #and i'm a fan of multimedia projects! i'm a vocaloid guy! #this is bad. it's a bad decision and we have the frights stannies to blame. #and also matpat can't forgive him #sorry this is so long again. promise i don't mean it #this shit just makes me see red #and i always lose the plot along the way #and like... requires so much emotional honesty #this isn't hypotheticals this is Me and my Personal Experience #i have to lay bare one of my deepest darkest secrets #for the examination of others #just to beg people to stop spitting on me #and they'll do it anyway. #because I'm just words on a screen. #I'm not saying you're a bad person for liking them #(although i have a low opinion of you for liking this twist. sorry) #but i am begging you to self-examine #and read into the issue. read some theory. it's good for you. #and read better fucking books

[xhatake]

🌟 What is my muse’s sexual/romantic orientation? 💯 What is my muse’s ideal date?🍬 Is my muse a sub, dom, or switch?

🌟 What is my muse’s sexual/romantic orientation?

kakashi is bisexual/biromantic but has always had an inclination towards men! It's something he's always struggled to understand. Understanding orientation has been a very strange think for him; he's always felt he has to like men or like women. not even counting anyone who lays in between those definition. it's not until his late 20's that he understands that's not the case --- he can like any gender to any degree. i think when he becomes more comfortable with his gender identity/expressing it he comes to the same conclusion about his orientation.

💯 What is my muse’s ideal date

kakashi's ideal date would probably either be a night in or a picnic outside of konoha. If it were to be a night in he would likely prefer to stay at his house, he's generally more comfortable there. he would want to cook some sort of meal revolving around his s/o's favorite food. Kakashi is definitely the sort of guy that would go over the top as well. I'm talking candlelight, roses, he scoots the chair out for his date, etc. A lot of his ideas of romance come from the media he's consumed & so he would probably be very stereotypical. He would want to spend the rest of the night catching up, reading with them, playing games, maybe getting frisky & just generally getting a little bit of one on one time with them.

alternatively, he would love to go on a picnic. i have a headcanon that he buys a lot of bento boxes. he see's one with a neat design? he's gotta have it. He uses them largely to bring meals from himself & his team when they're training but really jumps at any other chance he may have to use them. He would probably have already bought one that reminded him of the other person & would probably jam it full of food ( maybe with a bottle of liquor --- sake makes him sleepy so maybe gin? ) The two of them would find a spot uphill of a stream so they wouldn't be bothered by the bugs but could still enjoy the sound of rushing water. They eat, they laugh, they spend time with each other. maybe they even dip their toes in a stream & feel all the weight of the world wash away with the water

either way he's most interested in just spending time with his love interest in a quiet, secluded setting. he goes a little over the top with the stereotypical romantic aspects because he feels like he has to compensate for being hard to read? plus it just makes him happy.

🍬 Is my muse a sub, dom, or switch?

Kakashi is a big switch. If we're talking about casual sex with someone he doesn't know that well, he's more apt to be dominant. He doesn't like the vulnerability of submitting to someone he doesn't necessarily trust? He's prone to one-night stands because he doesn't really know how to get emotional or how to bring emotions into the picture. It leaves him feeling defensive when someone is a one & go. when it comes to friends with benefits he's a little more apt to gt experimental.

When he finds a more consistent partner he's more eager to adapt to their needs. Kakashi likes to get experimental, he likes to talk to his partner about what they want so he has an understanding of what to do?? He does tend to feed a more submissive streak when he's with someone he trusts. This stems from the fact that he very rarely is with someone he feels he can be that way with, if that makes sense? He likes the intimacy of trusting someone enough to follow their lead.

also, if we're talking specifically about kink he is still a switch but he likes to discuss anything he's going to or be do in-depth with his partner beforehand. Whether he's the sub or the dom for the night, he likes to know where they're going; partaking in kink without having express lines & boundaries drawn makes him feel physically ill. I think he used to be very chaotic in his hookups & he was experimental in ways that weren't always safe. He didn't understand the depth of kink but he was interested in it & met a couple of bad doms along the way that left him with the aforementioned defensiveness.

#thatsneakymedic #hc. #answered. #thank u for sending this i have a lot of thoughts on kakashi #nsft

[starrynightmovietheatre]

hii omg i just read your percy x chronically ill!reader headcannons and cried i needed that so badly today so thank you <33

anyways can i please request either a fic or headcannons for percy x aphrodite girl!reader?? tysm! i love your writing 💞

Warnings: probably about 46 grammar mistakes, none really I think

I loved this until it DELETED ITSELF?? Thank the lord I put it in a word counter and I had it there but I was STRESSSINGGGG 😭

Anyway seriously I did love writing this and it gave me smth to do instead of just marinating in my bed like the scrumptious chilli and tomato pasta I made for dinner earlier x

Elise now presents:

Nothing sweeter than my baby, never want once from the cherry tree

Starring: Percy Jackson, Sally Jackson, daughter of Aphrodite!reader

Soundtrack: Work Song - Hozier, There She Goes - The La’s, Can I call you Rose? - Thee Sacred Souls, Style - Taylor Swift

Enjoy the movie! 🎬

Jason knew Percy loved his girlfriend, Annabeth knew Percy loved his girlfriend, everyone at camp knew Percy loved his girlfriend but the gods knew that Sally Jackson knew the full extent of the boy’s love for his girl, you.

She knew how you take your tea and your coffee, she knew that you preferred milkshakes over smoothies and she knew that you loved the lace on your socks even if no one could see it. But what she mostly knew was the exact shade of lipgloss you wore, specifically the one that found his way planted on Percy’s cheeks and mouth on Iris Messages and when she picked him up from camp for special events.

On the fifteenth of December it was still sunny out in camp half blood, but the weather barrier wasn’t strong enough to keep the frost of Long Island out of the demigod’s space. You and Percy had resorted to huddle in his cabin, blankets over your legs that are tangled all together, the only difference between them being the white lace socks on two of the feet.

You sit in your silence before Annabeth knocks on the door and calls through that Sally’s here to collect Percy and is waiting at the big house. It feels oddly like a play date, your parents warning you that you have ten minutes before going back home and scrambling to gather your last few moments together.

You both reluctantly move away, untangling yourself from the other’s limbs until you’re pulling your shoes on and Percy double checks he has everything everyone will ever need for over Christmas. As your picking up anything you might have brought over you feel the gentle pressure of hands on your hips, fingers slotted carefully into the belt loops on your shorts.

“Wish you’d just come home with us.” Percy mumbles, head bent down and face pressed in your neck as he kisses whatever skin he can reach. Your hand comes up and drags through his brushed out curls and plant a lipgloss stained kiss on his temple.

“I’ll see you properly in a few days, love, it’s not that long.” You tease softly, hands travelling down to rest on top of his own before lacing your fingers with his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

You never really knew why you didn’t just go home with Sally, Paul, Percy and Estelle, I mean you lived just a few blocks along from them and your parents had known each other since before you and Percy were born. But then your dad insisted on you waiting a few days and coming home with him instead, probably something to do with his work but you’re pretty sure he just wants to see you alone and be a doting dad for the hour long drive.

Either way you barely get days away from Percy but your siblings are made well aware of the fact, your moping being a clear indication.

“A few days is ages though, a whole 72 hours without you.” He adds dramatically, spinning you around like a princess at a ball before kissing you perfectly on the lips. Your arms wrapped up at his neck as your lipgloss stains yet another part of his face.

After a moment just standing like that, small kisses exchanged exactly like the scene when you two were lying down, you follow Percy to the big house, holding his bags when he pulls his mum into a hug. Despite him being about a head taller he still slots perfectly into her arms, his face pressed on her shoulder like he hadn’t seen her in centuries.

(He saw her last night on Iris Message)

After a moment of holding her boy, Sally pulls back and laughs softly as her eyes catch on a shimmering mark just below her son’s mouth. Percy screws his face up and lets out a small laugh as well despite not knowing what she’s laughing at.

“What? What are you laughing at?” He asks, his voice genuinely confused before you realise what he’s laughing at and you let out a small laugh before hovering your hand over your mouth. He glances between you both still incredibly confused before Sally reaches up and wipes away a smudge of soft pink gloss from the corner of his mouth.

“You smudged your lipgloss.” She teases before looking at the stain on his temple as well, hidden mainly by his curls. He turns to you with a wide smile as you blush widely at the obvious pink marks standing stark on his skin before he reaches and kisses you again, the gloss smudging again.

You blush further at the obvious affection in front of his mum but he seems completely relaxed at the idea, going as far as turning back to his mum and crossing his arms mock-defiantly.

“It’s a Fashion Statement.”

Directer’s note: This is kinda shit at the end but please ignore that I was trying to finish it today 😭 anyway I got a cheeky little Matthias Helvar fic in the works and all 🤭 no one requested it but no one puts respect on my boy’s name so I gotta do it myself 🙄

#enjoy the movie ׂׂૢ: ̗̀➛✧.* #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #Aphrodite cabin #cabin 10 #Aphrodite reader

[kikis-writing-world]

My Eyes Only

Summary: What starts as pillow talk and getting ready for a night at the club, ends with a reminder that Blue doesn’t like to share.

Pairing: Blue Jones x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Rating/Warnings: SMUT - there is no “active” sex in this, but there is talk of it plus foreplay. Shaving (plus a quick mention of pubic hair,) anal play, mentions of plugs and lube. Possessive!Blue gets it’s own warning, especially when reader is being a bit bratty. Mentions of mental illness and institutions. Mentions of past violence. No editing/beta. If I missed anything, please let me know.

A/N: I’m not sure where the idea truly stemmed from, but I wanted to write a “slice of life” of lying in bed with Blue, tracing the scar from when Babydoll stabbed him. It evolved into this. He may come off a little OC (at least at first,) but I like to imagine he’s changed a bit since getting stabbed - plus love makes people act crazy, right?

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says ’creator chooses not to use warnings’. You also agree that you’re the right age to be consuming anything here.

The dual panting for breath had long since ended, sweat cooling on your skin and sticking your bodies together as your heart rates returned to normal. The steady, soothing thumping echoed through Blue’s chest, nearly lulling you back to sleep. You fought to keep your eyelids open, knowing your time laying together was going to come to an end sooner than you’d like.

Blue’s hand trailed up and down your bare back, making you squirm occasionally as he brushed against a ticklish spot. You could hear his breathing change into an amused puff every time you moved and you could imagine the lazy, pleased smirk that accompanied it.

With your head rested against his rising and falling chest, your fingertips skimmed across the discolored skin of the large scar on his shoulder. An incident from before your time at the club. A myth traded between dancers before you and Blue had gotten close, confirmed now by the evidence across his pale skin.

“What happened to her?” You asked, breaking the serene silence of the room.

“Hmm?” Blue hummed, oblivious to your current train of thoughts.

“The girl. The one who did this.” You clarified, resting the palm of your hand over the jagged scar.

“Lennox House.” He answered simply. The two words made you shudder as you thought of the foreboding building on the outskirts of town, full of mentally unstable women. “Probably there for life.”

You could feel him tensing beneath you as he thought of the attack. You wondered how much of the stories you had heard were true. You were sure that even Blue’s account was exaggerated to some extent, and you knew that the stories the girls whispered to each other were even worse.

You tilted your head up, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. The growing stubble prickled at your skin, a treat that you usually didn’t get with Blue. Aside from his clean, thin mustache, the man preferred a clean shave, always wanting to look put together in front of clients.

He cupped your cheek, tilting your head up to kiss you. His plush, warm lips slid easily against yours, still tender and kiss-swollen from earlier. You sighed into the kiss, sliding your hand from his shoulder to his neck. You caressed his jawline with your thumb, feeling a spark of desire break through the sated, satisfied feeling in your gut. You shifted against him, getting more comfortable as you licked his bottom lip. He groaned softly, but pulled away instead of granting you access.

“We need to get ready.” He reminded you sadly, moving his hand to tangle in your hair. You leaned into his touch.

You pouted up at him, batting your eyelashes exaggeratedly as you slid your leg over his thigh. His eyes fluttered as you pressed your core against him, a combination of earlier’s arousal and your new growing interest pressing warmly against him.

He bit back a groan, letting his hand fall to your ass for a quick squeeze. “I know, cupcake, but money doesn’t make itself in this place.” He teased as he started to sit up, making you move with him. 

You disentangled yourself from him, sitting on the bed as he stood. He groaned as he stretched, rolling his shoulders and arching his back. You watched as his pale skin rippled with the movement, your eyes inevitably falling to his bare ass. God, the man had an ass…

Blue paid no mind to your ogling, heading into his ensuite bathroom. He left the door open, but you couldn’t see him from your spot on the bed. You heard him turn on the sink, beginning his usual routine.

You dragged yourself out of the bed, humming quietly as you felt your muscles protesting. You took your turn to stretch out the tension in your back, your hips, your legs. The pleasant ache between your legs would no doubt be with you all night. You smiled softly at the thought.

You entered the bathroom behind Blue, watching him in the mirror as he applied his shaving cream. He winked at you through the mirror, but left you to your privacy as you lowered yourself onto the toilet.

You watched him as he examined his own face, slowly dragging the straight razor over his cheeks and jaw. The only break he gave in his concentration was when he shifted to the side, letting you have access to the sink to wash your hands after you had finished.

You leaned your hip against the sink, watching as he finished his left cheek. He brought the razor down to his towel, wiping off the hair and cream. Before he could lift the razor back to his face, you held your hand out for it. He paused, looking down at your hand before turning to look at you directly, not through the mirror.

“Let me help?” You asked, your confidence wavering under his gaze.

He dropped the razor carefully into your hand as he quirked an eyebrow. “Do you know what you're doing?”

“You think my hair naturally grows in this shape?” You teased with a grin, pushing away from the sink to stand closer. You could feel the heat coming off of his chest, your breasts barely brushing against his skin.

He matched your grin with his own, his palm finding your hip. His thumb traced over your skin, the tiny movement so close yet so far from where you wanted him…

With two fingers under his chin, you pushed his face upwards. The skin of his neck stretched with the movement, pulling taught for you to shave. You held your breath, keeping your hand steady as you made the first swipe through the foam. His hand on your hip tightened as stilled for you.

The two of you were silent as you carefully dragged the razor over his skin. You were concentrating while he was avoiding unnecessary movements. You could practically see his pulse jumping under the thin skin.

As you moved to his chin, you couldn’t help but watch his lips as you worked around them. You remembered how they felt against your own, on your chest, your thighs, between your folds. Your bare nipples pebbled as the ache in your core throbbed anew. You couldn’t help the soft sigh as you exhaled, finishing a long swipe of the razor down the side of his neck.

He swallowed hard at the sound, his Adam's apple bobbing as you pulled away to wipe the razon clean. You nearly jumped as you brought the razor back up to his face, feeling his hardening cock brush against your lower stomach. You looked up at his eyes for the first time since you started shaving, seeing him watching you with dark, hooded eyes. Desire shot through you once more.

You forced yourself back to the task at hand, trying not to squirm under his heavy gaze as you shaved the skin of his right cheek. When you moved to clean the razor again, he broke the silence.

“What costume are you wearing today?” He asked, voice low and gravelly.

You left the razor against the towel as you met his eyes once more. You smirked, tiling your head in thought and hummed. “I kind of like the one I’m wearing now.” You teased.

Blue’s growl was the only warning before he pushed forward, invading your space and pressing you against the wall behind you. You gasped, dropping the razor to the floor as your hands automatically found his shoulders. He gripped your waist hard - not hard enough to leave bruises though, those were from the night before.

“Don’t tease me.” He hissed into your ear, nose pressed against your temple. You could feel the remnants of the shaving cream smear between you, but you hardly cared.

“Who’s teasing?” You asked coyly, the heat in your eyes betraying the cool demeanor you were attempting. “I bet I could empty a few wallets dressed like this. All eyes on me.” You drawled out slowly.

He gripped your chin tightly, grunting in annoyance. You gasped, not expecting him to move so quickly.

“Only I get to see you like this.” He snarled dangerously. “I don’t share.”

You pressed your thighs together, whimpering.

“You’re off tonight.” He ordered, making your eyes widen. “You’re going to stay just like this,” he paused to grope at your ass with his free hand. “For my eyes only.”

“Yes, Blue.” You preened, arching into him.

A finger pressed itself between your cheeks, making you jump and whimper. The pad of his finger brushed against your puckered hole. You shivered against him.

“Oh, that’s what I’ll do,” he muttered to himself, grinning wickedly as the plan came to mind. He continued to circle and tease at your ass as you squirmed. “Stretch you out, plug you up.” He pressed harder into you, not yet breaching you. Your breath caught as your muscles tensed in anticipation. Your hips rolled, unsure if you wanted to push back into him or try to escape.

“Make you wait all night, plugged and aching for me, before I come back and remind you who you belong to.” He finished, a dangerous grin on his lips. “Would you like that, little girl?” He asked, mockingly.

You nodded frantically, your mouth too dry to speak.

“Good.” All at once, his hands were off of you. You nearly fell without the extra support, your knees buckling as you leaned heavily into the wall behind you.

“Well?” He prompted casually as he turned his attention away from you. If not for his straining cock, you would have thought you had imagined the whole thing. He lifted the towel to wipe his face clean. “The more time you waste, the less time I’ll have to prep you. Some of us need to work tonight.” He warned in the same casual tone. “I’d go get the lube, if I were you.”

You rushed past him, back into the bedroom, as his filthy laugh followed.

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[obeymeoasis]

Demon Bros React: MC Defends Them From Nasty Remarks

Warnings: Explicit language, MC being mildly violent (throwing/kicking things).

Lucifer

Lucifer had just finished some paperwork for Diavolo and was on his way to R.A.D to deliver it.

In the hallway he could hear two demons talking and laughing. As he got closer he heard them say "Lucifer" and instinctively ducked into a nearby alcove.

"Lucifer's such an asshole." "I know, right? He acts like he's so much better than the rest of us when really, he just has a huge stick up his ass. It's no wonder he doesn't have any friends. Even his own brothers don't like him!" "He'll probably spend the rest of his life being Diavolo’s little bitch."

He would be lying if the comments didn't make him angry. But it was far from the worst thing he had heard about himself and would definitely not be the last time someone spoke ill of him.

With a weary sigh, Lucifer turned toward the south entrance where he could walk in order to avoid the demons. He could have strode past and glared at them menacingly. He could have made them grovel on their knees. But he was honestly exhausted and looked forward to this day being over as soon as possible. Plus, it would reflect poorly on Lord Diavolo if he started a fight with some lesser demons over this.

Suddenly, the chatter of the demons was interrupted by a loud thumping sound followed by the sound of one of the demons screeching in pain.

Lucifer quickly turned around to see- Oh no. You were standing in front of the demons, rage clear on your face. The demon who had yelled in pain was crouched on the ground holding his bruised shoulder. A History of the Devildom textbook was open on the ground, pages crumpled.

Did you... did you just throw a textbook at a demon?

Before he could even move, he heard your angry voice. "Listen here you fuckers. How dare you talk about Lucifer like that. He's one of the kindest, most intelligent, most thoughtful beings I've ever met. And you have no right to speak of him like that! I love him!"

Lucifer's heart burst at your declaration, his cheeks warming in pleasure. The two demons however, who had been gaping at you in shock, were now beginning to look murderous. The injured one stood up and slowly inched toward you, a vicious grin on his face. "Oh, is that so? And what the hell is a weak human like you going to do about it?"

You opened your mouth to speak but before you could say anything, Lucifer picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. "Love, I appreciate how you stood up for me. There's not many people who have done so for me before. But any more would cause trouble. And also, please don't throw textbooks at others, no matter how much you think they deserve it."

With a smug smile on his face, Lucifer began to walk toward the dorms. You, however, were struggling to turn your head around, still yelling and pointing angrily at the demons. "This isn't over! Sleep with your eyes wide open! You'll be hearing from my lawyer!"

He really did love you.

Mammon

Mammon was at the casino on a Monday night. It was lively as always, crowds of people playing group games and others drinking and mingling.

But for some reason, Mammon felt like being alone. He was in one of the more quiet corners, playing the slot machines.

He honestly should have been back at the dorms doing his homework. He was here because he felt like he had to, but his heart wasn't really in it. Mammon thought about packing it up early and texting you to see if you wanted to hang out.

The sudden sound of glass shattering broke through his thoughts. There was some sort of commotion going on and Mammon could hear angry yelling and cursing, some kind of argument.

Like many of the other customers, Mammon drifted toward the noise wanting to see what had happened. His heart sank when he saw you in the middle of the crowd, still in your R.A.D uniform, arguing with an older demon who Mammon recognized as a regular. They had played some games together before that always ended in angry accusations. The remains of a drinking glass lay shattered on the floor.

Mammon quickly rushed to your side. "MC, what the hell are you doing here?! What happened?" Up close he could see how livid you looked, you were trembling with fury.

The older demon opened his mouth while gesturing at his ruined clothes. "This bitch threw a drink at me! I should have them arrested! Do you know how much this tuxedo costs?" Ignoring him, you turned to face Mammon.

"Mams, Lucifer told me to check up on you and you weren't answering my calls. So I decided to come in person to make sure you were okay. But then I heard this asshole saying terrible things about you to his friends, calling you a liar and a cheater and all kinds of horrible names that you're not!"

Mammon was shocked to see you were struggling to fight off your tears, your lower lip quivering. "I know how caring and genuine and loving you are and I couldn't stand by while he said those things about you! None of it’s true!"

Overcome with emotion Mammon embraced you fiercely, shielding you from the other demon. "Oh, babe. Ya really are a special one.” Mammon gently stroked your hair and whispered in your ear. “I don't care about what he said, but thanks for sticking up for me. I love ya so much."

"Now let's make a run for it so that demon doesn't kill us."

Leviathan

Levi was slowly getting used to being in a relationship with you in public. At first, interactions were limited to the privacy of his room: cuddling and watching movies, gaming together, reading manga together. But now he looked forward to waiting for you after classes and walking home with you while holding hands.

His face got really red and he had a hard time making eye contact with you but still, he thought it was an improvement.

Right now he was waiting for you outside your classroom, scrolling through his D.D.D to kill time. Suddenly, he heard someone call your name.

“MC, you’re dating Levi right?” At the sound of his name he peeked in the window to see you cornered by three demons. He saw you nod. 

The demons began to barrage you with questions. “Why are you with a loser like that? Doesn’t he like never leave his room?” “He’s honestly the ugliest out of his family. I don’t believe that Levi and Asmo are related.” “You don’t actually find him attractive, do you?” “Are you with him ‘cause he’s like the easiest to control?” 

Each word felt like someone was piercing his heart. These were all things that he had thought or wondered himself, days when the darkness seemed to win over his mind. But to have them spoken out loud, especially in front of you, it was unbearable. It was as if his lowest and most shameful thoughts were being justified.

He was afraid to hear what your answers would be. Biting his lower lip, Levi turned to head home by himself but flinched at the loud sound of something slamming into the wall. He peeked inside the window again and saw you standing there, furious, your hands clenched into fists. You had apparently kicked one of the desks into the wall, black scuff marks clearly visible against the white paint.

“Alright, listen here you despicable fucks because I’m only going to say this once. My relationship with Levi is private, meaning all of your questions can be answered with ‘none of your damn business’. But since you’ve gone out of your way to waste my time, I’ll let you know this: Leviathan is more beautiful, inside and out, than any of you will ever be in your entire miserable lives. I honestly don’t think you deserve to breathe the same air as him and I hope Levi summons Lotan to devour the three of you."

Levi’s jaw was on the floor. He had never heard you speak that way. He had never had someone defend him so fiercely. His thoughts were interrupted by the classroom door suddenly slamming open as you walked out."

“Oh Levi, tell me you didn’t hear anything just now.” Your eyes were wide and you looked at him nervously.

Levi grabbed your hand and held it tight between two of his own. “I did, but it’s alright. Thanks for what you said.”

“Anything for my Lord of Shadows.”

Satan

Satan was heading to the library, your usual after-school spot. Some days you two spent hours there doing homework, reading, or just chatting quietly about your day before heading to dinner.

As he approached the table he saw you sitting down with a stranger seated opposite you. Leaning closer he was relieved to see it was a classmate you were friendly with, someone he knew you hung out with occasionally.

Satan was about to say hello when he stopped at the mention of his name. "MC, are you sure it's wise to be this involved with Satan?"

He quickly ducked behind a nearby bookshelf. Satan usually wasn't one to eavesdrop like this but the question concerned him.

"MC, I'm asking you for your sake. Satan is dangerous. He's violent and cruel. There are rumors about him beating up other demons and doing horrible things to them. What if he tries to hurt you too?"

Satan flinched. Sure his wrath had led him to do some destructive things before, but it was never without reason. Is this how you saw him as well? His thoughts began to spiral. What if you grew scared of him? Of his wrath? What if you flinched at his touch? That would hurt more than any of the rumors that swirled about him. 

Satan saw you take a deep breath before speaking. "Well, I appreciate you talking to me about this. I know you meant the best and were just thinking about me. But I promise you, you have nothing to be worried about. Satan would never hurt me."

He saw your friend shake their head, exasperated. "But you don't know that! What if one day he can't control himself and has an outburst or something?"

You replied carefully. "Satan is gentle. Incredibly so. He always treats me with nothing but respect and kindness. And Satan's not some kind of monster. He knows how to control himself and his powers. I love him. I really do. And until he decides to stop loving me, I want to be by his side."

He saw your friend huff irritably and get up to walk away. "Suit yourself, MC. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Satan took this as his cue to walk over. Your eyes brightened at the sight of him and you started to ask him about his day, acting as if nothing had happened. Satan played along for a bit, but then reached across the table for your hand and began playing with your fingers.

His hand was shaking. "I'll never stop loving you, you know. For as long as I live you're the only one for me. I love you, MC."

Asmodeus

Asmo was thrilled when you said you wanted to go dancing with him because he was usually the one pestering you to do things. He was having so much fun with you tonight, twirling you around on the dance floor and marveling how beautiful you looked under the shimmering lights of the club.

He was beginning to feel a bit hot, however, and excused himself to the bathroom, making sure you were safe on of the couches with a bottle of water in your hand.

Asmo had just finished touching up his makeup and adjusting his outfit when he heard two demons near the entrance of the bathroom gossiping loudly about him.

“Did you see what he was wearing tonight? He might as well have come naked instead of wearing those scraps of fabric he thinks counts as an outfit.” “My friend slept with Asmo once. She said he’s super easy, he’s willing to pretty much sleep with anyone.” “I bet him and that human won’t last another week. Once he’s done with them he’ll trash ‘em and move on to the next one, like he always does.”

Being the Avatar of Lust meant that Asmo had heard these kinds of comments before, whispered in the hallways at R.A.D or the dark hallways of nightclubs. It never really got easier listening to them though, and he realized he was biting down hard on his lower lip, his nails digging into his palm. 

Asmo contemplated what to do. He didn’t want to keep you waiting by yourself outside but he also didn’t want to run into the demons talking about him. Their comments affected him more than he thought they would. Maybe it was because you were involved. He wouldn’t do that to you. You knew that right? He would never treat you like a plaything.

Taking a deep breath and steeling his nerves Asmo schooled his face into an expression of careless indifference. He took a step outside, ready to greet his "fans", but was surprised to see that you had gotten there first.

And what a sight you were. Despite being much shorter than the two demons, it seemed you were the least bit intimidated. Your glare was ice cold as you gestured wildly at the two of them, and moving closer Asmo realized you were screaming.

"How fucking dare you say such vile things? You don't know the first thing about Asmo. You're really going to shame someone for what they wear?! For what they do in the privacy of their bedroom?!"

You pointed angrily at the demons, who seemed too stunned to move or say anything. "People like you make me fucking sick. You're despicable! Talking as if you're so high and mighty when all you do is judge others! How dare you? You cowards!"

Asmo could see you were getting more and more enraged and your hands were beginning to tremble. He leapt forward to stand between you and the demons and put his hands gently on your shoulders. Once he saw that you were okay, he gave you a passionate kiss, his mouth hot and needy against yours.

You kissed him back for a moment but moved away to hiss, "Karens, Asmo! Karens in the fucking Devildom, who would have thought?!"

"I know, darling. Let's head home. We can have a nice, relaxing bubble bath together."

Beelzebub

Beel was looking through the menu, deciding between a couple of his favorite dishes. It was your one year anniversary and despite his insistent protests, you had remained firm in your decision to pay for that night’s meal. Ever since you and Beel began dating, he pretty much always paid for your meals together because of how much he ate. But tonight, you wanted to be the one to treat him for once.

Beel knew you had secretly been saving up Grimm and he’d feel so guilty if you spent it all on him. Which was why he was trying to decide between a couple of different things, when normally he would have ordered everything on the page.

“Babe, please order whatever you want. I can practically see the thoughts turning in your head. I told you that I wanted to pay for tonight and I’m going to keep that promise. I want this to be a special night for us, so don’t worry about it.” Before he could protest, you called the waiter over.

Beel sighed and knew there was no changing your mind on this. You were incredibly stubborn when you wanted to be. He rattled off his usual order as the waiter frantically scribbled down notes, struggling to keep up. Once finished, Beel handed over the menus and smiled at how cute you looked, a mixture of pride and smugness on your face.

But your expression soon turned sour as you heard the conversation from a couple sitting a few tables over. Their voices were intentionally loud and they kept sneaking glances at your table as if to watch your reactions.

“Oh my lord, honey did you see how much food that guy just ordered? What an absolute pig!” “I saw, darling. I honestly pity his date right now, they must be soooo embarrassed.” “Is there anyone who wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen in public with such a selfish glutton?”

Beel’s heart felt like it had sunk. Embarrassed? Was MC embarrassed to be seen with him? Panicking, Beel thought back to all of the dates he’d had with MC so far. He realized that they ate out a good majority of the time they hung out, with Beel eating his normal enormous portions each time. Oh no, what had he done?

Head bowed, Beel slowly looked up at you, afraid to see what kind of expression you were making. But to his surprise, you didn’t look embarrassed or ashamed at all. You looked like you were going to murder someone.

He watched as you cleared your throat and then began speaking even more loudly than the couple had been. “OH BEEL, MY HANDSOME, KIND, LOVING, STRONG, SEXY, TALENTED BOYFRIEND. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! YOU’RE HONESTLY SO AMAZING AND ONE OF THE QUALITIES I LOVE ABOUT YOU MOST IS THAT YOU’RE NOT A JUDGMENTAL ASSHOLE WHO MAKES RUDE INAPPROPRIATE COMMENTS TO STRANGERS ABOUT THINGS THAT ARE NONE OF THEIR DAMN BUSINESS!” 

Beel felt his lips inch into a smile and he flushed with amusement and happiness. But you weren’t finished just yet. “EXCUSE ME WAITER?” 

Your waiter practically ran to the table and looked between you two nervously, then at the couple glaring daggers in your direction. “COULD YOU PLEASE BRING US ANOTHER MENU? MY BOYFRIEND WASN’T FINISHED WITH ORDERING WHAT HE WANTS. OH BEEL, I LOVE HOW MUCH YOU EAT. HOW COULD SOMEONE BE EMBARRASSED OF A WONDERFUL GUY LIKE YOU?”

Beel took the menu and began listing some more foods at random, not really paying attention. He was too busy thinking about how much he loved you, how nobody aside from Belphie had ever stood up for him like that, had protected him like that. His cheeks felt like they were about to split from how much he was smiling.

When the waiter finally left, looking frazzled, Beel made his way over to your side of the table. He knelt down and nuzzled into your neck before giving you a tender kiss on your forehead. “MC, you’re amazing.”

Belphegor

Belphie had to admit, the gardens were a pretty nice place for a nap. Earlier in the day you had practically dragged him outside claiming that you were bored of sleeping in his room. As if that was even possible.

At first he was pretty annoyed that you were making him get up and move around. But the newly washed picnic blanket, the cool breeze rustling through the trees, and the light smell of flowers in the air all contributed to a very nice environment for a nap.

Belphie rested his head on your lap, already feeling his eyelids growing heavier. Your fingers gently combed through his hair, lightly scratching against his scalp, and he practically purred.

He guessed he had been asleep for about ten minutes when he awoke to the sound of your voice and something prodding against his knee.

Irritated at the disturbance, Belphie looked up to see two R.A.D students he recognized for always causing trouble. He looked over to see you scowling and guessed you had been telling them to leave so they wouldn't wake him up.

One of the students leered down, blocking out the light, and used the tip of his foot to poke Belphie's knee again. "Well the two of you make an odd fucking pair, huh?” He sneered, “Personally, I don’t date people who have MURDERED me in the past but what do I know? Love works in all kinds of mysterious ways.” You flinched as if someone had slapped you and Belphie growled, his hands curling into fists.

The other student leaned down to clap Belphie on the shoulder. “I gotta admit I didn’t know you had it in you, chief! I always thought you were...” He gave Belphie a once-over before adding “Well, everyone thinks you’re a bit fucking useless, eh? But I’m glad to see you’re capable of something.”

Belphie opened his mouth to reply venomously but was interrupted by the most horrifying sound coming from your mouth. It sounded like a combination of wailing and screeching as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. It was difficult to hear what exactly you were saying because of how hard you were crying, but Belphie could make out “How could you say that?!” and “Leave him alone!” among the screams. 

The two students had their hands over their ears, their faces twisted into grimaces of pain. One shouted, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Worried, Belphie put a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to calm you down but you shrugged it off, continuing to cry and wail. Pretty soon other students began gathering around you, whispering amongst themselves and looking to see what all the noise and commotion was about. It was difficult to ignore you when you kept yelling things like “You’re horrible! Horrible! Leave us alone!” 

The two instigators looked at each other for a brief moment before deciding to run off, not wanting to get involved any further. And as soon as they left, it was like a switch had been turned off. You stopped crying and screaming immediately. If he hadn’t been there from the beginning, Belphie never would have guessed that you had been crying. Your face was perfectly calm and you sat relaxed with your hands folded, the picture of innocence.

“Belphie, don’t worry about what those two idiots said. We’ve talked about it enough and we’ve both worked it out, haven’t we? And you’re not useless. You know how much I love you and care about you. You mean so much to me.” 

Belphie leaned over to take your hand in his trembling one. He reached down to brush a stray leaf out of your hair before whispering, “MC, you’re fucking terrifying sometimes. I love you.”

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me hcs #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me beel #obey me belphie #om! headcanons #om! hcs #obey me! shall we date? #obey me!

[myherowritings]

PART 1. A VERY WELL-DESERVED TIP

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.0k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. my brief work as a barista is finally paying off. i suffered at sbux all to write this fic ✌︎('ω'✌︎ ) LMAOOO i frl had so much fun writing this and i’m very excited to share the next parts ;) i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i do!! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

You were not looking forward to your new work schedule for the next month. 

The employee who usually came in for opening shifts at four in the morning gave her two weeks notice...two weeks ago. And since you had your availability open (you knew you should’ve blocked it off and said you had morning class), your manager asked you to fill her place. 

The night before your first—of many—morning shifts, you tried tricking yourself into thinking it was a good idea. And it almost worked! Sort of. 

You told yourself waking up early when the sun rose worked with your body’s natural circadian rhythm and this experience may adjust your sleep schedule for a healthier one in the long run. Better health and wellbeing and lower risks of cardiovascular disease. Or something. You weren’t too sure exactly; you never paid much attention in biology but it sounded like something you’d find in a textbook, right?

When you arrived on your first day, the morning shift was just as hectic and chaotic as you expected. People in business suits with name brand bluetooth earphones in their ears and the latest new smartphone in their hand filled the shop and waited for their online order. It was as if they wanted the least amount of social interaction possible, which would be fine if being able to make connections with customers wasn’t the most interesting part about being a barista. 

Although the cafe you worked at was a small business who actually (tried) to pay their employees fairly and wasn’t a purely money hungry franchise like the certain green siren, it surprisingly had gained enough traction in the area to rival one of those cheap, chain stores. 

Good for the business, bad for sleepy workers who could barely function in the mornings.

But you enjoyed working here and the owners were kind, so you did your best to shove away the tiredness and put a bright and cheery smile on your face. The customers were grumpier than you were used to, but who wouldn’t be a little ill-mannered having to go to work at 5 a.m. and probably not leaving until 6 p.m. or later because of bosses who overworked them? Trying to get them their morning coffee with an amiable attitude to start off their day right was something you were more than happy to do. 

It was too bad barely any of them gave you the time of day. They just wanted to get their caffeine and leave with as little human interaction as possible. It was understandable, of course, but it wasn’t the lively cafe environment you were used to during later shifts. You sighed, hoping the atmosphere would be friendlier when it wasn’t a major rush hour. 

“Hi! I can help the next person in line,” you called for the twentieth time this hour. When they moved forward towards the cash register, you gave them a smile. “Good morning. I hope your day has been going well!”

“It’s been okay, thank you. And yours?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you almost sputtered over thin air. Someone who actually replied back to what you said and asked about you in return? Even if the intent was a courtesy conversation that was meant to be quick and brief, the sentiment was there—the upholding of the values of common courtesy and human decency. Something too many people seemed to lack. 

“I’m good as well! A little tired but what’s to be expected a quarter ‘til 6 a.m.?” you said with a laugh. “Thank you for asking.”

The customer gave a small smile in return and you internally celebrated for finally seeing your first pleasant expression this morning. “Must be even more tiring dealing with all these people. Doesn’t seem easy. I have to commend you for it.”

He was a tall, handsome man with a pretty face, soft-looking hair, and genuinely nice? There was no way this was real; you had to be dreaming. 

You twiddled with the pen in your hands, taken aback and mildly embarrassed by the praise. “Just doing my job,” you said with a bashful look. “Thank you, though.” You cleared your throat, not wanting to hold the line up for too long, even if the customer was one you would rather keep talking to than the others. “Now, what can I get started for you today?”

“Right. Can I get a flat white in the medium size?” 

“Of course.” You typed in his order into the register before asking, “And is there anything else I can get for you? Like a pastry? Today we have some freshly baked cheese danishes that are really yummy if you’d like to try!” 

He thought for a while before shrugging. You weren’t sure if it was your eyes playing tricks on you or he actually had an amused look on his face. “Sure, I’ll take a couple dozen of those as well.” 

“A couple dozen—?” your voice faltered. The suggestion of a fresh pastry was one you made to almost every customer, though most turned it down on the spot. 

The cafe had a little weekly competition between workers to see who could sell the most pastries in the week and the one who sold most got...well, a free pastry and bragging rights. Admittedly, it wasn’t much, but nothing revved up sales like friendly rivalries. An order of a couple dozen was sure to land you in the top spot this week! Still, you had to make sure he meant it. You’d feel bad if he was just spending all his hard-earned office work money because he was trying to be courteous. (Or at least, you assumed he was some office employee.) 

You cautiously asked, “Are you sure?”

Either your eyes were playing tricks on you yet again, or the look of amusement on his face grew even more than before as he said, “I’m sure. One medium flat white and, say, three dozen boxes of cheese danishes, please.” 

“C-Coming right up!” you said, quickly entering his order and celebrating your free end-of-the-week pastry in advance. “That will be $42.81. Would that be card or cash?” 

“Card.” He pulled out a sleek, black card with gold detailings on it and you never knew you could be sexually attracted to a credit card until now. 

“Perfect! Go ahead and swipe, insert, or scan your card now. In the meantime, can I get a name for your order please?” 

He scanned his card over the machine before looking back up at you. “It’s To— Ah, Shouto.” 

“Shouto?” you asked in confirmation. You assumed it wasn’t ‘Toahshouto’. That sounded too much like the abbreviation used to remember how to find sine, cosine, and tangent.

“Yeah. Shouto.” 

You smiled. “Well, Shouto, your order will be ready in a few minutes. Please wait over to your right to pick it up!”

He nodded. 

“It was nice meeting you!” you called, waving goodbye. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“Thank you,” he glanced at your nametag, “Y/N.” 

Oh, how nice it felt to be treated like a human by a customer and have them actually address your name— And not to say it in a condescending way either. 

“Do individual baristas get to keep the tips here?”

You blinked, feeling your face warm up slightly. “We do, actually.” One of your favorite parts of the job, you had to admit. 

“Glad to hear.” Shouto pulled out some crisp-looking bills from his wallet and placed one in your hand that said ‘100’ to you. “Thank you for your kind service, Y/N.” 

“Wha—” Your eyes widened. You were expecting something along the line of three dollars. Maybe five at most. But a hundred? By the time you had processed what had happened he was walking away from the cash register. “Wait— Shouto...sir! I think you accidentally gave me the wrong amount.” 

He shook his head, only briefly turning back to face you. “Nope. It’s for you,” he said simply. “I’m looking forward to the cheese danishes.” 

His words left you stunned, but the next customer in line tapped their foot impatiently, signaling it was now time for you to take their order. You hoped the line died down before Shouto left the cafe so you could return the tip, but seeing as how the queue almost extended out the door, you had the sinking feeling that wouldn’t be a possibility. 

“Hello, I can take the next customer in line!” you recited cheerfully, mind still occupied by thoughts of your last encounter. 

The next few orders went along uneventfully (though you did manage to sell two more cheese danishes) and by the time Shouto got his coffee and pastry boxes, you still had a handful more customers to get through. 

“Pardon me real quick,” you said apologetically to the woman in front of you. “Please give me one moment?” 

She graced you with a nod and you thanked the stars above for an understanding patron. 

“Wait— Excuse me, sir!” You waved in Shouto’s direction before he could exit the cafe. He glanced at you curiously but walked over. In a hushed voice, you said, “I really appreciate the tip, but there’s no way I could accept this much money from you!” 

For the first time today, you say the hints of a frown on his face. “You cannot?” 

“No! $100 is a lot! You already bought $40 worth of cheese danish pastries— Are you sure you meant to give that big of a tip?”

“Of course.” He took a sip of his coffee with a satisfied hum. “You getting up at such an early hour to take people’s orders with a kind attitude isn’t easy. Plus, trying to build rapport with each of them all while keeping the interacting swift is a difficult task itself. And it’s probably worth more than your current pay, the $100 tip, and then some.” 

You blinked, stunned by his words. This man kept surprising you so many times in just one morning. 

“I find it ridiculous how certain occupations are paid an ungodly amount more than others, especially when a lot of it comes from privileges you were born into.” Shouto seemed to mumble the last bit to himself, but you were still able to understand what he said. “It’s bullshit.” Before you could respond, he recollected himself. “Eat the rich, right? All that to say, please accept the tip. You deserve it. And I promise it’s of no detriment to me, so please don’t feel bad.”

Seeing the determined look on his face, you couldn’t help but stare at him before nodding. He didn’t say anything you didn’t already believe yourself, and if someone really wanted to give you $100, you weren’t going to fight them on it. Think of all the dumplings you could buy, you told yourself.

“T-Thank you then.” You gingerly placed the folded bill back into your pants pocket. “I think that was really insightful of you and I’m very grateful.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled before glancing towards the exit. “I’m running a bit late for work now, so I should be going. Have a good day, Y/N.”

“You too, Shouto. And… Thank you again!”

With a glowing expression on your face, you walked back to the cash register ready to face the day and talk to more lovely customers!

“Hey, little barista!” a gruff voice called from the line, snapping you out of your stupor. “Hurry it up already before you force me to complain to your manager.” 

You internally sighed. You understood they were in a rush, but they still had no right to be that rude. 

“Can you even hear me? Or are you too incompetent?”

Cue another internal sigh. 

Yeah, okay. Maybe you did deserve this $100 tip.

Regardless of the rude customers that may have come in, at least you had your thoughts of a cute, kind businessman who went by the name of Shouto to get you through your shift. And you could only hope you’d be able to see him again.

a/n: the end of part one folks!! oh what i’d give to have gotten a tip like this when i worked as a barista BAHAHA only in my dreams. i hope you enjoyed this little intro part and are excited for what’s to come !! :3

what to expect in the next part:

~maybe~ y/n will see shouto again and,,perhaps,,get more tips from him idk who knows 

old lady imparts some...helpful(?) advice 

we briefly get to see shouto’s pov! ;D

#bnha x reader #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #mha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #todoroki shouto #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha fluff #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #todoroki imagines #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #todoroki x y/n #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki #bnha todoroki

[alwaysmarveling]

Laryngitis

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Nat’s a protective girlfriend and you may or may not be sick

A/N: I somehow just realized that since yesterday was Monday, by my unofficial posting schedule, I was supposed to post something yesterday. Sorry for missing it, but I hope you guys enjoy this :)

The annoying beeping of the alarm filled the pitch-black room. Not fully awake, you realized Natasha didn’t have to be waking up this early, so you shot up to turn off the clock before it could wake her up. Just as you were fiddling with the buttons, a groan from beside you told you that you were too late.

“D’you have to go already?” your girlfriend asked, her voice husky and slurred. You whispered back to her in an effort to not wake her up completely.

“Yeah, I’m sorry for waking you, Natty. Go back to sleep.”

“You don’t have to whisper, babe. We both know I’m not going back to sleep.” You let out a sigh, rubbing your eyes slowly to pull yourself into consciousness. She was right; Natasha was a light sleeper, and once she was up, she was up. “Don’t worry about it, dorogaya. Means I can do your hair for you.” That brought a small smile to your face. Not only was Natasha amazing at doing your hair, but it was always an intimate moment between the two of you that both of you loved. As long as Natasha wasn’t away, she made it a point to do your hair for you, even if you two were in an argument with each other.

A small cough brought you back to the present moment. You weren’t sure what it was, but you just weren’t feeling it today. You thought it was the sleep at first, but it was never this hard to wake up, and it wasn’t like you did anything particularly exhausting the day before. Shaking out your arms, you dismissed the thought and slid off of the bed.

“I’m going to go get ready first.” Both you and the redhead froze at your voice.

“Are you okay, detka?” You leaned over the mattress to gently rub at the deep crease between her brows, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, I must just have something stuck in my throat.” The spy chuckled at your response, but you could still sense an uneasiness in her.

“Go drink some water. Does your throat hurt or anything?”

“I’m fine, Nat.” She simply hummed, watching as you shuffled into the bathroom. You may or may not have told your girlfriend a little lie, but so what if your throat hurt? You’d be fine in less than an hour. You didn’t want to worry her over nothing.

When you were finished in the bathroom, the lights in the room were on, and Natasha was now sitting on the edge of your bed, legs crossed.

“Come sit.” She tapped the small footstool in front of her with her foot before returning to her position. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked again as you joined her.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. You really don’t want me to go on this mission, huh?” you teased. Your face contorted at the end as you tried to hold in a cough, and you still sounded like a frog. Still, you tried to play it cool, hoping Nat was still buying your previous excuse. 

“Well of course I don’t want my girl to leave me.” You could practically feel your heart jump out of your chest when she called you hers, but you simply winked at her.

“I shouldn’t be gone long, half a week at most,”  you informed her, sitting down on the stool.

“I’d miss you even if you were gone for five minutes,” Nat murmured, leaning over to kiss the top of your forehead. “Oh my god, Y/N. You are not going on this mission, you liar. You have a fever!” As if she planned it, you shivered as a chill ran through your body.

“Nat, I promise you, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed. “You sound like a zombie. You look like a zombie too.”

“I- hey!” You didn’t mean to yell as loudly as you did, and it threw you off a little bit, causing you to release a series of dry coughs. Lips pursed, the redhead rubbed your back in an effort to soothe you.

“You are definitely sick, Y/N. Get back in bed. I’ll tell Fury.”

“Natty, you’re not going to-” Before you could finish, she was already at the bedside table, phone to her ear. Damn your girlfriend and her spy skills.

“Hey, Fury, Y/N’s sick with a fever and probably laryngitis. You’re going to have to get someone else to cover the mission.” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. You hated missing work. You’d never been one to take a vacation or a day off; for the whole time you’d been working under SHIELD, you only took a sick day once after you’d had to get surgery due to a mission gone slightly wrong. Even then, it took some serious persuasion to get you to do so. You were too busy stressing about missing the mission to listen to the rest of your girlfriend’s conversation with Fury until you heard her calling your name.

“Y/N. Babe? Y/N? Hello?” Looking up from your hands, you met her concerned gaze.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Fury’s asking how you’re feeling.”

“Good enough to go on the mission?” The redhead rolled her eyes.

“Try again. He’s worried about you.” She held out the phone to you. “Fury, you’re on speaker.”

“L/N, how’s the throat? Try tea with lemon and honey, it’ll help.”

“I’m fine, old man,” you rolled your eyes.

“Wow, you really are sick.” Your lips parted slightly, and Nat couldn’t help but chuckle at the indignance written across your face. “Get some rest, L/N. Don’t worry about the mission, it shouldn’t be hard to get someone to cover for you.”

“But-”

“No ‘but’s. L/N, your powers are literally based on your voice. This is a minor mission, but if this goes south, we need someone who can defend themselves to their full capacity. You are way too valuable to be lost just because you got sick. Listen to your girlfriend. Get better soon. That’s an order. Goodbye, L/N. Thanks for calling, Romanoff.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Wait, Fur-” The man hung up before you got the chance to finish. “This is all your fault.” You crossed your arms, turning away from the former assassin.

“Y/N,” Natasha sighed. “It’s just one mission. I promise everything’ll be okay.” She knew well of your anxiety regarding missing work considering she was the one who had convinced you to take the sick day after your surgery. While she hated making you upset, she knew—and if you were being honest, you did too—that you couldn’t go on a mission like this.

“What if I fall behind? Or what if Fury decides he doesn’t need me anymore? Or what if-” Your voice got weaker the more you spoke, partially because of your nerves but also partially due to your illness.

“Babe, as much as I’d love to talk this out with you, you shouldn’t be talking. Your throat is already destroyed, so for now I’m going to need you to trust me and just listen.” She took your hand and gently guided you back to the bed, purposefully avoiding the glare you were giving her.

“You won’t fall behind because this mission isn’t important. Fury said so himself. I promise it won’t affect your performance at work. And Fury will never decide he doesn’t need you anymore because he literally sees you as his kid.”

“He-” Natasha pressed a finger to your lips before you could finish.

“No talking. Yes, he does see you as his kid whether you want to admit it or not. He will also never replace you because you’re one of the best agents he has. He asked you to join the Avengers for a reason, printsessa. He’s not going to fire you just because you get laryngitis one time, even if you fall behind because of it.” Your girlfriend bent down slightly to meet your eyes, which were still directed at the floor. “You’re doing amazing, Y/N. You do so much for so many different people, and now it’s your turn to let people return the favor. Okay?” You stared at her for a second, your face so blank even Natasha couldn’t read it. When you finally nodded, the redhead let out a small breath of relief before giving you a small smile and a peck on the forehead.

“You stay here. I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?” You reached your arms to her, fingers grasping, when she began to walk away. Letting out a light laugh, she turned around and held one of your hands. “I’ll be back as fast as I can, malyshka. Why don’t you pick out something for us to watch?” She let go of you after one last kiss to the back of your hand and left before you could stop her again.

---

Natasha shuffled through the cabinets as the water was heating up in the kettle.

“Morning, Wan, starting breakfast?” the spy greeted the witch.

“Yeah, you’re up early. Y/N’s mission?”

“Actually, she’s sick,” Natasha grimaced. “Fury’s going to reassign the mission.” Wanda let out a whistle as she placed various ingredients on the kitchen counter.

“I bet she didn’t take that well?”

“Nope. But she can barely speak, and even when she can, she can’t speak more than a sentence or two without stopping to cough, which means…” She trailed off as she inspected a medicine bottle.

“No powers.” Satisfied, Natasha put the rest of the bottles away and returned to the now whistling kettle.

“Exactly.”

“Huh, the kid who can kill people just by speaking with a certain tone gets taken down by a virus.” The former assassin chuckled as she squeezed lemon juice into a steaming cup of tea.

“Don’t let her hear that.”

“Which part?”

“Any of it.” Wanda’s laugh rang through the room.

“Is she hungry? I can make some soup after breakfast if she’s up for it.”

“That would be great,” Natasha smiled gratefully, “Thank you so much.”

“Of co- Your girlfriend is calling for you.” Red flashed as Natasha’s head whipped up, confused.

“Are you sure? I didn’t hear anything. I told her not to-”

“No, no, not verbally. She’s just thinking it. Very loudly.” Nat sighed, but the corners of her lips curled upwards at your antics.

“Is there anything the queen needs?”

“Just you. And no medicine.” The spy shook her head.

“Tell her,” she started, tossing a spoon into the sink, “that I’m on the way. With medicine.”

“You got it,” Wanda promised with a wink. “Warning you now, though, her majesty won’t be happy.”

---

Sure enough, Wanda was right. You had already opened your mouth to complain about the medicine in Nat’s hands, but one stern look from her had you zipping your lips closed in a second.

“You take this, in a couple of days you can talk again.” Your girlfriend didn’t need to be able to read minds to understand what you were thinking; your face said everything. “Yes, a couple of days,” she ordered firmly, handing you two pills. “Take them. Here’s your tea, and I also got you a bottle of water.” You gave her a grateful smile before swallowing the pills, grimacing as they scratched their way down your very sore throat.

“Good girl,” Natasha murmured. “Now,” she started with a peck to your cheek, “Do you need anything else? Blankets? A cool towel? Oh, Wanda’s making you soup, by the way, but I could get you a popsicle or something if you want?” You shook your head at all of her requests. Instead, you patted the spot on the bed next to you.

“Alright,” the redhead smiled. “What’d you pick for us to watch?” You pointed to the screen in front of you. “American Idol. You really aren’t making things easier for yourself, huh?” Nevertheless, she slid in next to you, sitting cross legged, and pulled you into her, your head resting on her lap with the laptop placed in front of you. 

“Maybe I can pull an Ursula and use one of their voices for the mission,” you whispered.

“I swear to god, Y/N, if you don’t shut up,” the spy laughed. A smile on your face, you hit play and snuggled yourself further into her.

As Nat ran her fingers up and down the length of your arm, you couldn’t help but relax into her. Sure, your throat wasn’t better by any means, and you had some lingering anxiety about the mission. But if you had to miss a mission, this was sure as heck the best way to do it, with Natasha right by your side.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #I wrote something #alwaysmarveling

[whats-k-popping]

Cravings

Summary: The pressure makes him gag, dry and grating against his already irritated throat. His back is fully arched in pain, tears mixing in with his saliva puddles on the floor. All the force eventually expels thin streams of bile into the mix as well. In these moments of sheer agony, Seokjin can only think about how Yoongi will be stuck cleaning the mess.

Pairing: YoonJin - Married AU. Pregnant Seokjin.

Words: 3969

Warnings: Emeto || MPreg || Romantic Relationship between Members || Graphic Descriptions of Illness || Mentions of Shame/Guilt || Morning Sickness

Inspiration: if you're accepting request, can i request something? a mpreg story for yoonjin with seokjin experiencing morning sickness .. stuff like that. i dont have any specific scenes in mind,i just love to read smth about that !

Dedication: I'd like to dedicate this work to the anon who made the request. Thank you so so much for the request. I meant to just write a scene or two and it turned into this. I'll admit, I got a bit carried away with it. I loved building and writing their relationship so much, I apologize if it takes away from the emeto experience. If you just want to read the emeto portion, skip to the second cut and read from there. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!! <3

"What do you want for dinner, Jagiya?" Yoongi asks, one hand scrolling through delivery menus on his phone and the other rubbing his husband's noticeably round bump. The local news is playing on the TV, but neither one is paying attention. Seokjin's been resting on Yoongi’s lap all afternoon. The younger's legs have been asleep for probably too long, he shakes them every so often just to make sure they still work.

Seokjin turns toward the question. He shoves his face into Yoongi's stomach, batting at the drawstrings of the younger's hoodie. "Just get whatever you want," He says, but Yoongi can tell by the tone it's not what he means. 

Yoongi wonders if Seokjin's upset with him. He knows he didn't do anything wrong, but those hormonal mood swings have been kicking Seokjin's ass since he entered the second trimester, and Yoongi gets the short end of the stick each time. He readies himself for another pointless and irrelevant lecture. He can't in good conscience be mad about it. The man he loves most in the world is carrying his first child. Literally, fifty percent of Yoongi is living inside of the older man. And Seokjin’s taking such good care to ensure the health of their first born. Yoongi would be a fool to let a few hormone-fueled lectures sway his admiration.

Still, he wants to tread lightly. Because even though Yoongi doesn't care about the mood swings and the tiny tantrums, Seokjin does. Despite how many times Yoongi assures him that he understands and that he's not upset, Seokjin always feels so guilty afterwards. Guilty to the point that he weeps and sobs and convinces himself that he's a terrible husband and he's sure he's going to be a terrible father. It's just another hormone induced mood swing, Yoongi knows, but that kind of stress is not good for the baby. So Yoongi aims to avoid it whenever possible. 

Yoongi moves his hand away from Seokjin's stomach and into his hair, threading gently through the tangled strands. "You don't have a preference?" He asks again, gently with no hints of judgment. He knows Seokjin's not usually a picky person. But he's never known Seokjin to not want input on dinner. 

"Nope. I'll eat whatever you eat." Seokjin latches himself onto Yoongi's waist. He's needy, clingy. He wants Yoongi's attention, but he's too shy to ask. It’s another type of mood swing. But Yoongi actually loves this one. 

Yoongi figures there's something on the tip of Seokjin's tongue. He wants to say something. He assumes it's a dinner recommendation. But Seokjin wants Yoongi to pry it out of him. They've played this game before. Yoongi's had more success prying open sealed clam shells than getting his hyung to ask for something. 

It's times like these that Yoongi falls back on reverse psychology. Seokjin has a diverse palette, he rarely ever turns down food. But Yoongi knows a few things that Seokjin prefers not to eat. "I'm in the mood for fried tofu," he starts. 

Seokjin pulls a face of disgust. He hates the texture of tofu. Even more so since the pregnancy has been messing with his taste buds. Yoongi sees Seokjin's displeasure and he's satisfied with the response. "Alright. So you don't want tofu. What do you want then?" 

Seokjin sits up to face Yoongi on the couch, he's fiddling with his hands in his lap like he's in trouble, like he's guilty of some high profile crime. The older man pouts as he explains, "I don't want anything…" 

Yoongi knows where this is going, "But…" He spares a small glance to Seokjin's belly urging him to continue. 

"But," Seokjin palms his lower belly, "Agi is hungry for a hot pot." Seokjin's made a habit of blaming their baby on all of his cravings. A hot pot in the middle of July isn't even the most out-there request he's made in the past few months.

Yoongi laughs out loud, bellowing laughter that makes Seokjin feel just a tad less guilty. "Jagiya, you know it's like 33 degrees today, right? We're in the middle of a heat wave." 

Seokjin's quick to defend himself, "I tried to tell her that. But she already doesn't listen to me." He jokes, keeping his palm over his bump. "She's really set on a hot pot." 

Yoongi takes one of Seokjin's hands and kisses the knuckles. They’d received the sex of the baby just a few days prior and Yoongi was over the moon at the confirmation. He secretly wanted a daughter. He wants a little princess to spoil. But he wouldn’t have been disappointed with a boy either. He’s just happy to be a father. But when Seokjin refers to the little one in his belly as their daughter, it activates some primal paternal instincts he's never needed before. He can’t help but give in.

"Then I guess we're having hot pot," he picks up his phone and goes back to scrolling through delivery options, "does Agi have somewhere specific in mind?" 

"Actually…" Seokjin's back to fiddling with his fingers and it pulls Yoongi's attention back, "Agi wants it homemade. And with beef. Please." 

"What a little diva she's becoming," Yoongi chuckles with a wide smile. He wants to keep the mood light, he wants Seokjin to know it's okay to have cravings and it's okay to ask for them. Even if he wants a boiling meal on a boiling day. 

But he's only ever cooked hot pot once before. And he doesn't remember it tasting that good. Nothing like his mother's homemade hot pot. Not to mention that he doesn't know if they have all the ingredients in the kitchen. Their schedules keep them plenty busy. When was the last time they were in a grocery store?

Seokjin seems to sense Yoongi's uneasiness, "You don't have to, Yoongi. I know you're tired. I'm really okay with whatever you want to order." He looks down like he's talking to the baby, "Maybe we can have a hot pot when the rainy season comes around. It's not too far away." Seokjin's already shame-spiraling for asking. Yoongi will absolutely not allow it.  

"Jagiya, love. Look at me," Yoongi lifts Seokjin's chin with a finger to meet his eyes. "If Agi wants a hot pot, then Agi gets a hot pot. Made from scratch by her second favorite appa. With the finest beef we probably have in the kitchen." 

Seokjin's floored by the suave charisma of the one and only Min Yoongi. He's seen it a handful of times, specifically since they found out he was pregnant. It’s a different kind of sentiment than the usual calm, cool, collected, little-rough-around-the-edges Min Yoongi. In these moments, there are no walls up between them. Yoongi has nothing to prove, nothing to hide. He knows this is Yoongi's most raw, most pure expression of love. He swoons. "Thank you, Jagi. I'll make it up to you." 

"No repayment necessary, love. Remember this is for Agi." He stands off the couch, ready to take on the task, "And what Agi wants, Agi gets. Every. Single. Time." 

"And if Agi wants kisses…" Seokjin puckers his lips while his cheeks flood pink. 

Yoongi smirks, taking a few steps to close the distance between them. He runs a knuckle against Seokjin's jaw line and leans in. He can feel Seokjin's nervous breath against his nose. He can see the rapid pulse in Seokjin's neck. "What Agi wants," he whispers, lips centimeters away from Seokjin's. The older man quivers in anticipation. 

Yoongi drops to his knees in one swift motion and lifts the hem of Seokjin's shirt, exposing the protruding bump. He presses a kiss just below Seokjin's belly button, "Agi gets." He finishes with his lips still pressed to Seokjin's flesh. Yoongi scatters a few more kisses just for good measure before Seokjin swats him away. 

"Min Yoongi, you are such a tease!" Seokjin's trying to pretend that wasn't the most adorable thing he's ever seen Yoongi do. Because he wants to be mad those kisses weren't his. But it's hard to be mad at Yoongi with his soft lips still tickling Seokjin's belly and his melodic laughter filling the air between them. 

Yoongi picks himself up and presses against Seokjin's side. The hot pot will have to wait just a few more minutes. He coos, nuzzling into Seokjin's broad shoulder. "What's the matter, baby? Jealous you didn't get any kisses?" If Seokjin's going to call him a tease, then he best play the part. He leans in and whispers into Seokjin's ear. "All hyung has to do is ask." 

Seokjin melts into a puddle like snow on a hot day. Yoongi's rough voice tickles his ear and he needs. He turns to face Yoongi with pouty lips and batted lashes. "Please." It's as close as he'll to get to begging. 

That's all Yoongi needs to continue. He grabs a fistful of Seokjin's hair from the base of his neck and pushes his face closer until their lips meet. Neither wants to be the first to pull away, so they stay pressed against each other. Making small movements just to take in air and give attention to every millimeter of each other's lips. They continue until Seokjin's stomach rumbles. It reminds them both of how their little moment started. 

Yoongi's first to back away, releasing Seokjin's hair and smoothing it out. He's still wearing a wide smile on his soft features. "Sounds like Agi's hungry. I better get cooking." He keeps Seokjin's hand in his as he walks away. Until he steps too far to reach and he disappears behind a bend in the wall. 

Seokjin's left wondering what exactly he did in his past life to deserve a man like Min Yoongi. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoongi's scrolling through recipes online. He's hung up on the cook time of the dish. He needs to marinade the meat for at least two hours. And they've already delayed the meal enough. He knows Seokjin is hungry now. And he doesn't want to keep his love waiting. Cravings can be fleeting. He doesn't want to go through all the effort just for Seokjin to change his mind. 

He's relieved to find some sliced beef in the freezer and gets to work on defrosting it. He needs to be quick with that so he can get it marinating. What good is flavorless beef in the hot pot. At the same time, he’s preparing the marinade and setting a stock pot on the burner. He needs to get the homemade broth. He's following the recipe down to the T. He wants this to be a meal Seokjin will enjoy. 

With the meat marinating and the stock brewing, he takes a breather to finish reading through the recipe. He’s as caught up as he can be. He will soon need to start chopping the vegetables and soaking the noodles. But he has time for that later. Meanwhile, Seokjin is still hungry with no end in sight. Yoongi takes it upon himself to whip up some instant ramyeon. When it's finished, he walks a tray out to Seokjin. 

"It's still gonna be a bit before dinner's done. I made you this to hold you over in the meantime." He sets the tray down on Seokjin's lap. 

Before Seokjin can thank him, his stomach rumbles in anticipation. He giggles shyly when he thanks Yoongi and starts slurping up with noodles. The bowl is empty in minutes. Seokjin leans back on the couch, smiling with satisfaction now that his hunger has been quelled. “Aren’t you going to have a snack, too?” Seokjin asks, only now realizing that Yoongi sat beside him the whole time just watching. He feels a bit guilty not that he didn’t offer any to his husband. But he remembers that he’s technically already sharing every meal he eats with someone else. That fact eases his guilt. 

Yoongi just shakes his head. He starts collecting the used dishware and puts it back on the tray. “No, I can wait until dinner. But Agi sounded a little too impatient.” He rubs Seokjin’s stomach a bit. “I hope she’ll still be hungry for hot pot.” 

Seokjin’s mouth waters at the mention of the dish. “Yeah, I think she’ll still have some room,” he teases. Yoongi kills time entertaining Seokjin on the couch. He explains that the meat needs to marinate and the stock needs to settle and the whole process based on what he read on the internet. Really, making the hot pot isn’t difficult. It’s just time consuming. 

Yoongi presses a kiss to Seokjin’s forehead before heading back to the kitchen. The stock should be nice and rich, the meat marinated enough. He’s ready to move on to the next step. He begins the hunt for vegetables. After searching every drawer, cabinet, and container, he finds spinach, cabbage, peppers, carrots, mushrooms, onions, potatoes, and green beans. He’s actually surprised to see they had so many fresh vegetables available; he wonders how they got there. He doesn’t remember buying them. 

Regardless, he’s thankful he has them and starts chopping them into manageable bite size pieces. The recipe is easy to follow from there and in nearly no time at all, he’s got the simmering dish set up in the middle of their kitchen table. He sets out three places, just to build the habit, and calls Seokjin to the table. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seokjin can smell the meal from the living room. The savory, rich aroma of the juicy meat and hearty vegetables fills the air.  The combined fragrance of various spices adds flavor to the soup. It smells exactly like how Seokjin remembered. 

His mouth is watering as he takes in the scent. But it's not watering in anticipation of the meal. His mouth is filling with thick saliva in anticipation of sickness. 

The thing about Seokjin's morning sickness is that it never actually happens in the morning. He always wakes up feeling fine. He's able to get through most days without being sick. But he's not exempt from the miserable symptom in full. 

Actually, Seokjin would prefer a more scheduled experience. He'd prefer if he would just know what makes him feel sick. He'd rather vomit every morning for 9 months like clockwork over dealing with what his body is currently putting him through.

He's more sensitive to foods, both the tastes and the smells. And if he encounters a trigger, it's immediate nausea that always ends in misery. He'd avoid them if he could. But there's no rhyme or reason to it. No consistency in what kinds of foods are going to trigger it. 

Early in the pregnancy it was eggs. He could hardly stand to look at them without gagging. But after a few days, he ate a whole dish by himself and felt fine. Then it was Yoongi's coffee. Seafood. Onions. Pork. And now something in the hot pot is triggering him. 

The ramyeon he snacked on is sloshing around in his stomach, reminding him that there's food inside that wants out. He presses his palm into his stomach, begging the churning to stop. He doesn't want to be sick today. 

He thinks about Yoongi, who he can hear humming happily in the kitchen while preparing the meal. He thinks about how willing Yoongi was to satisfy his craving for hot pot. He thinks about how hard Yoongi's working to cook a meal he probably doesn't even want to eat. All because Seokjin asked him to. 

He's going to be devastated if Seokjin doesn't doesn't eat. He can hear the pride in Yoongi's voice when he calls for Seokjin from the kitchen. So he mutters as much baseless confidence as he can and forces the nausea away. He knows it's a temporary solution, but it's all he can think of with Yoongi waiting for him in the next room. 

"Your appa is going to kill us," Seokjin whispers down to his bump. He may also blame the bump for his current predicament. May curse her out for the poorly timed sensitivities. But he keeps those thoughts to himself.

Yoongi's smile is wide as he ladles a heaping portion into Seokjin's bowl. He makes sure to get a little bit of everything in the bowl so Seokjin can experience all the flavors. Once he's got Seokjin taken care of, he ladles himself a smaller portion.

Beads of sweat are forming on Seokjin's forehead but it's easy enough to blame the boiling pot between them combined with the heat of their apartment. But in reality, the sweat is a sign of Seokjin's nausea. A warning, a consequence for trying to ignore it. "Smells great Yoongi," He tries to distract himself while he swipes his hand across his forehead. He hopes Yoongi hasn't noticed he has yet to taste it.

Yoongi beams at the compliment. He's trying to be humble, but he thinks he did really well. And most importantly, he was able to satisfy Seokjin's craving. And that's worth more to him than the hours he spent working up a sweat in the hot kitchen. "Thanks, hyung. Agi's wish is my command. I hope it satisfies her." 

Seokjin raises the corners of his lips just a tad. He's reminded that Agi will not get the chance to taste it. If he's able to get any down at all, it likely won't stay there for long. He's got the nausea at bay for a moment and decides he's ready to take a bite.  

He picks up a chunk of carrot with his chopsticks, believing it's the safest option. The texture is soft and easy to chew, making it easy to swallow. And it likely didn't absorb as much flavor as the rest of the dish. He still doesn't know what specific element of the meal is making him so sick. The dish is filled with so many potential triggers. 

Choosing the carrot had been a mistake. The second the vegetable touches his tongue, his stomach bubbles and sloshes with rage. He's convinced the carrot is the trigger. Still, he's chewing, trying to convince Yoongi that everything is fine. He needs Yoongi to think he's enjoying the meal. Otherwise, he'll find himself on the spiraling train of thought that he's disappointed his husband. 

Seokjin's racing against his stomach. It's a competition to see if he can swallow the carrot piece before anything shoots up his esophagus. But sadly, as he continues to take slow and measured bites, his stomach rebels and he feels thick liquid climbing up his throat. 

He considers booking it to the bathroom, but the kitchen sink is so much closer and he knows he's out of time. So comfort and dignity be damned, he sprints to the kitchen sink and heaves up the undigested remains of ramyeon. 

He heaves again, and a third time before he notices Yoongi beside him. Though Seokjin thinks he's been there since the first wave. Of course, like the Saint he is, Yoongi is coddling him. Yoongi is encouraging him to get it out, easing him through wave after wave of what looks to be everything he's eaten since his last morning sickness episode the week before. 

After eight productive heaves and three dry ones, Seokjin relents. He throws himself onto Yoongi. Yoongi cradles him, guiding him back to his chair at the table. 

As soon as he's back at the table, his senses are bombarded with the stench of the hot pot again. He’s thrown immediately back to a nauseous mess. He falls off the chair onto all fours. His mouth is hanging open, droplets of saliva making small puddles on the floor. It feels like his stomach is being pressed into a juicer. But there's nothing left to push out, no matter how hard it's squeezed. It doesn’t know when to quit,

The pressure makes him gag, dry and grating against his already irritated throat. His back is fully arched in pain, tears mixing in with his saliva puddles on the floor. All the force eventually expels thin streams of bile into the mix as well. In these moments of sheer agony, Seokjin can only think about how Yoongi will be stuck cleaning the mess. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seokjin's memory is missing pieces, because next thing he knows he's in their bedroom, slouching against the mattress. Yoongi's beside him, running fingers through his hair and rubbing gentle patterns on his exposed stomach. He looks at his husband's soft, sympathetic smile and caring gaze. 

Yoongi swipes a hand across Seokjin's forehead. It's warm, but probably just from the effort. He accepts that it was just another bout of morning sickness. "Are you feeling better now?" There's no malice, only softly spoken words meant to help him be okay. 

Seokjin immediately starts crying anyway. In between hiccuping sobs, Yoongi can make out a few little phrases. "So sorry…you cooked…the smell…and Agi…belly hurt…the carrot…didn't mean it…good to me…I'm sorry…my fault." He can sort of paint a picture of what Seokjin’s so upset about. He scoops the older man into his lap with ease, resting Seokjin's head in the crook of his neck. Seokjin's using his shoulders as a tissue to wipe his leaky eyes and nose but Yoongi couldn't care any less. 

He shushes Seokjin, gently rocking side to side. He plants a kiss on every inch of skin he can reach without moving his husband too much. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're okay. Everyone is okay. Everything's fine." Yoongi repeats the same gentle mantras until Seokjin stops shaking with sobs. When Seokjin seems calm enough to hold a conversation, Yoongi continues. "You don't need to apologize for anything, love. Something just didn't agree with you. That's no one's fault." 

Seokjin sniffles, "You worked so hard. And I couldn't even eat any of it." 

"If you don't feel well, you don't feel well." Yoongi states matter-of-factly, like it's obvious. Because to every extent it is. So he guides his nimble fingers along Seokjin's body for comfort. 

"You wanted to order out. Maybe this wouldn't have happened if we just ordered something." Seokjin rambles. 

"You had a craving, jagiya. You didn't know it would make you sick." Yoongi counters, "That's no one's fault either." But the reassurances all fall on deaf ears. 

"Please don't be mad, Yoongi. I'm sorry for wasting all that food. And for the mess in the kitchen. I'll clean it up.” Seokjin tries to pull away from Yoongi, but Yoongi tightens his grip. Seokjin abandons his efforts when he notices they’re not getting him anywhere. He settles back in before he’s hit with a blaring realization, “You didn’t get a chance to eat anything! You should get yourself something to eat." 

 "Jinnie-hyung. I don't care about the stupid hot pot. I don't care about the mess in the kitchen. I don't care about wasting food. I don't care about skipping dinner. I care about you,” Yoongi’s got both hands squishing Seokjin’s cheeks. He’s forcing Seokjin to look at him. He’s forcing Seokjin to hear him, “It’s you. You and Agi are all that I care about. Always.” Seokjin’s eyes well with tears again, but these aren’t guilty tears. No, tears of admiration for his husband. “Do you understand that?” Seokjin nods, nuzzling himself back into Yoongi’s chest. 

Yoongi hums in satisfaction, petting Seokjin’s head. “Good, now that that’s settled. Are you feeling better?” Seokjin hums an affirmation. “You’re all empty, Jagi. You and Agi need to eat. Think you can stomach something light, jook maybe?” 

Seokjin contemplates the question before agreeing. He looks up at Yoongi, “Can you order it from that cafe in Seongdong-gu? The one where every meal is named after a different fish. And can I get a soda. Please.” 

Yoongi chuckles fondly, pressing a long kiss to Seokjin’s forehead. “Anything for you, hyung.” 

A/N: As always, thanks for reading to the end! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!

#bts #bts sickfic #bts emeto #sick!Seokjin #caregiver!Yoongi #bts marries au #yoonjin #married yoonjin au #tw emeto #tw mpreg #pregnant!seokjin #bts mpreg #aki sickfic #aki writes #aki requests #ngl this yoongi is husband material

[cafedanslanuit]

♡   —   pairing: eren x reader

♡   —   tags/warnings: mentions of cheating and alcohol. side aruani and yumihisu. honestly just a feel-good fic, with humour and fluff <3

♡   —   a/n:  honestly, this is the most “romantic comedy” fic i’ve ever written and i love it <3 shout out to @ofoceansandtombstones​ that beta read this one mwah thank u

♡   —   masterlist

There was an ill taste in your mouth that wouldn’t go away, no matter how many drinks you had. And you already had more than a few. From your spot on the table, you could see your friends dancing and having the time of their lives. You really wished you could join them. Nevertheless, you had wasted all your energy forcing a smile and clapping along during the ceremony. Once you had arrived at the hotel reception with the rest of the guests, you had slid a bill to a kind waitress and told her to keep the drinks coming. 

Ymir and Historia were dancing in front of you. Stoic, sour-faced Ymir couldn’t help but smile as her sweet girlfriend twirled and giggled, her cheeks red and eyes just the tiniest bit unfocused. Next to them, Sasha, Jean and Connie were owning the dance floor, moving in sync to the happy music. A grin formed on your face as you saw Connie lifting Sasha up and her almost falling to the floor. Jean was holding his stomach as he laughed loudly.

On a nearby table, Mikasa looked over at them, a small smile on his lips. She was sitting next to her girlfriend, who was holding her hand as they watched their friends dance. You saw her girlfriend leaning over to her and whispering something in her ear, to which she chuckled. It was so strange -and so beautiful- to see Mikasa laugh that it took you aback. And apparently, also the girl she was with, because her lips slightly parted as she watched her in awe.

“How’s the party animal doing?”

You looked up and saw Eren staring down at you with a funny expression. He was wearing black dress pants and a white shirt. The first two buttons were undone, and he was carrying his suit jacket over his shoulder and a beer on his other hand.

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye out for everyone,” you replied with a shrug. Eren scoffed and took the seat next to you on the empty table, leaving his jacket on the nearest chair.

“I mean, I know attending your ex’s wedding isn’t bound to be a good time, but you’d think you would try to put on a happy face.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hey, at least I’m here.”

“After Mikasa tried her best to convince you during a whole week,” he said. You turned your head to Eren, eyes wide open. “What? Of course she told me.”

“That little… That’s it, I’m going to tell her girlfriend about that one time Mikasa got drunk with us,” you muttered angrily, standing up. Eren was quicker and pulled you back to your seat.

“You and Armin broke up a year ago. Why are you so upset he’s moving on?”

Before you could answer, the music stopped and the dance floor erupted in applause. Eren and you watched as Armin and Annie walked in between their guests, greeting everyone as they made their way to the bride and groom table, covered with a pearl cloth and decorated with the finest flowers. Every detail screamed elegance and you knew Armin had been the one to decide most of it. It had his taste written in every napkin and strategically placed flower.

Armin’s smile was almost too big for his face and if you had to guess, those small red marks on the external corner of his eyes meant he had been crying just a few minutes ago. You rolled your eyes. So sentimental. On the other hand, Annie’s smile was far less noticeable, but for someone who always repressed her public displays of emotions as much, that little smile must have felt heavenly to her new husband.

Husband. You took a big gulp of your drink.

“I’m telling you this because I care for you,” Eren said, redirecting your attention to him. “You’re looking like a petty ex.”

“Rather be petty than a cheater,” you shrugged, finishing your drink. You gestured to the waitress and she immediately walked to you, handing you a full glass. Thanking her, you wasted no time in taking a sip.

Eren’s eyebrows were deeply furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Armin never told you why we broke up, right?”

Eren scooted his chair closer to you and you bit back a laugh.

“He said you just weren’t good together,” he said, trying to remember his friend’s words. “And you said something similar when I asked you back then. Where does this ‘cheating’ thing come from?”

You let out a long sigh. “Maybe it wasn’t cheating. Not by definition, at least. But when your boyfriend starts dating someone else a week after you broke up a two-year-long relationship and he gets engaged four months later… you draw your own conclusions,” you explained, taking another sip of your drink and making a grimace. “Fuck, this one’s strong.”

After not getting a response from Eren for a long moment, you finally turned to look for his emerald eyes. You could almost see the numbers flying around his mind, trying to make sense of everything you had just told him. It was endearing.

“Wait, no-- wait,” Eren gestured at you with his hand. He stopped himself again and took a sip of his beer. “The first time Armin told me about Annie was in February. I remember it clearly. We were shopping for Mikasa’s birthday gift and then he went to pick something for Annie. And you guys broke up around Halloween, that’s the time I found you crying-- in Jean's backyard during our costume party.”

“We had a big fight at that party. We hadn’t broken up,” you clarified with a smirk. “He broke up with me after Mikasa’s birthday party. The same party he convinced me not to attend.”

Eren’s face dropped once all the pieces clicked together. He turned his body to look at the bride and groom table, where Armin and Annie were taking a sip of their champagne glasses and talking to each other enthusiastically, while the rest of their guests kept dancing.

“That son of a bitch,” he breathed out. You burst out laughing at his reaction. “No, I mean it! I really thought you had broken up during that Halloween party! You didn’t upload any more photos together, I don’t even remember even seeing you together--”

“I told you, we were fighting and… not in the mood for photos or public dates. Most of those months were spent at his apartment, fighting over really, really stupid things or just not texting each other for days,” you explained. “Honestly, when he broke up with me he made the decision I was too afraid to take. He was right, we weren’t good for each other anymore. But... fuck,” you chuckled icily. “I wish he would have broken up with me before getting with Annie.”

Eren listened in silence, his eyes still on his friend. You gave him time as you kept drinking, your gaze drifting to your friends again. You really wished you could have the energy to join them and forget Armin and Annie. It was true you didn’t love him anymore, yet seeing them together only made you remember how you had been fooled by someone you thought loved you the most.

You had had many dates ever since, but no one ever stuck. It was fun, getting someone’s attention for a couple of weeks, but then you couldn’t help but ghost them, putting up shitty excuses like wanting to focus on yourself and not having enough time to spare with them. You had lost so many amazing opportunities with both boys and girls that a couple of months ago you had decided to stop dating at all. It was lonely for sure, but at least you didn’t find yourself feeling guilty for not being able to open yourself up emotionally for someone else.

“Want to get back at him?”

You turned to Eren so fast you almost hurt your neck.

“What?”

“I have an idea. Just play along,” he explained, standing up.

“Eren, hey, what are you--”

“Everybody! If you could give me a minute please!”

You watched horrified as your friends started turning to you and Eren, confused at the commotion. Eren kept waving his hand, gathering more and more people’s attention, Armin and Annie included. He even gestured to the DJ to lower the music and she complied. In a few seconds, all the guests of the party were looking at you, who was still sitting down with a confused expression, a drink in your hand. Once he deemed enough people were looking at him, you saw him fumbling with his hands nervously.

“Eren,” you called for him again in a whisper, but all he did was take the drink you had in your hands and put it on the table.

“Sorry for interrupting, I know a lot of you were having a lot of fun dancing. But all I’m asking is one minute of your time. I hope that’s okay with you guys,” he grinned back to the bride and groom table, where they were as confused as all the guests around. “I have something really important to say.”

“Eren, no, you can’t tell them about--”

“No, no, give me a moment,” he hushed you again. The DJ walked to both of you and handed an inalambric microphone to Eren.

You didn’t like how devilish his smile turned.

“Great, thanks, this is much better,” he told the DJ, who just kindly smiled at him. “Anyway, I don’t want to take much of the bride and groom’s time, so I’ll try to be concise. The thing is…” he said, turning to face you. “I love you.”

Your mouth flew open as you heard multiple gasps coming from the guests. Yet, you couldn’t bother with looking anywhere but Eren’s eyes. What was he doing? Since when did he have feelings for you? If he wanted to say something, he could have easily said something a few minutes ago, when--

Just play along.

Oh.

Your questioning glare turned into a big smile and you noticed Eren softly nodding at you.

“You already know how much I love you. Honestly, I never get tired of telling you so. And hiding our love from our friends has probably been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Sorry about that, Mikasa,” he said, gesturing to the woman.

You could imagine your friend’s dumbfounded face, but you knew better than to turn and check for yourself. You knew you wouldn’t be able to hold in your laughter.

“So I’m here in front of all our friends and some other guests I don’t know to ask a simple question.”

In a swift movement, Eren got down on one knee. Your hand flew to cover your mouth, trying your best to hide any trace of laughing on your face. The flash of the cameras startled you for a moment, but that only meant Eren’s plan was working. The excited murmurs and squeals only fueled Eren, as he pulled up a ring and showed it to you. You immediately recognized it as one of the rings he had been wearing a few moments ago. 

“Would you marry me?”

A huge, honest grin made its way to your face and you nodded quickly. You grabbed the microphone Eren was holding and spoke right into it.

“Yes, I’ll marry you!”

You hadn’t listened to a crowd erupting in applause and cheers as loud as the guests at Armin’s wedding when Eren slid his ring on your finger. Once again, the flash of the cameras were right into the both of you as you leaped into his arms. He stood up while holding your body close to him, even giving you a small spin and you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

When he finally put you down, the music resumed and all your friends began running to the both of you.

“You’re fucking crazy,” you whispered to Eren, holding his face between your hands. He laughed.

“Kinda ruined the reception, huh?”

“When the fuck did this happen?” Jean inquired as soon as he reached you.

“Dude, why didn’t you tell us?” Sasha whined, with a small pout. “But congratulations!” she quickly followed, hugging you tightly. As you hugged her back, you felt someone taking the hand that was now wearing Eren’s ring.

“This is one of your rings,” she noted, shooting Eren a dirty glance. He lifted his hands in surrender.

“Hey, I didn’t plan this! But I will get her a prettier one soon,” he said, winking at you. You laughed and shook your head.

“Nah, I like this one,” you replied. You shared a knowing grin and soon it was Connie’s turn to hug you.

While you were hugging your friend back, you saw in the corner of your eye Armin getting up from the table and starting to walk to both of you. Your smile immediately vanished from your face and once Eren caught it and followed your eye trail, he understood the reason why. You heard him mutter a curse before he pulled you from Connie’s embrace.

“Well, we’d love to stay, but my fiancée and I want some time alone.”

“C’mon, you haven’t told us yet how you got together!” Sasha complained.

“Next time, we promise,” you hurriedly assured her.

Eren picked his suit jacket from the table and before Armin could reach your group, you quickly walked away, exiting the hotel. Eren whistled to a taxi and you jumped inside, telling the man behind the wheel to drive. Loud laughter filled the vehicle as soon as it began moving.

“How-- how did you even have this idea?” you asked him, holding your stomach as you laughed. “Dude, Armin looked so upset, we totally stole his thunder.”

“That was the plan,” Eren shrugged, a winning smirk on his lips. “Knowing the gang, everybody’s going to be talking about us and the engagement for the rest of the party.”

“Remind me to never have you as an enemy,” you chuckled, leaning back on the car seat. Letting out a long sigh, you took off Eren’s ring and handed it to him.

He shook his head. “Nah, keep it. As a souvenir of today,” he winked.

“Thank you,” you smiled. You put the ring on your thumb this time, since it was too big for your ring finger anyway. “You didn’t have to do this at all, and yet--”

“It’s okay,” he assured you.

“No, really. It’s just-- I’ve been having a tough time since the breakup,” you admitted. “To have you doing this for me means a lot. Makes me feel someone really cares for me. I never said anything to anyone back then because Annie is also a part of the group and I thought…”

Eren leaned his head towards you.

“You thought…?”

“I thought you would pick her too. It’s stupid, I know,” you shrugged, turning your head to Eren. “But Armin had just broken up with me and a week later he was already in public with Annie. Back then, I thought everyone knew we had just broken up and if no one had said anything was because they didn’t care. So I just… stopped hanging out with all of you as much as I did before.”

“Yeah, I noticed that,” he muttered.

“You did?”

Eren nodded. “That’s why I asked Mikasa to pressure you into coming to the wedding. I hadn’t seen you in a while.”

“You could have just asked me to hang out, you know,” you teased him. Eren chuckled, pushing some of his loose hairs behind his ear.

“I think we know by now I don’t take the conventional route.”

“Yeah, all of the guests know that too,” you quipped, making both of you laugh.

This time, when the laughter came to an end, you realized how close your faces were. Your noses were almost brushing as you both were lying your heads on the back of the car seat. You looked into Eren’s emerald eyes and noticed he wasn’t looking away from yours either. Was it the alcohol that made his cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink? If it was, then you could say the warmth crawling up your face was its fault too. It had to be the alcohol, or else, you would have to also ponder about the reason your heart was beating out of your chest at having your friend so close to you. He was handsome, he had always been and you knew this. But why were you losing all your composure just now?

A brief look at Eren's lips gave your thoughts away and, in less than two seconds, he was pressing his lips against yours.

For a spur-of-the-moment kiss, as you thought this one was, it was rather soft. Eren kissed you as if he thought you were the most expensive and fragile thing he had ever seen. But of course, this was just a product of the adrenaline and the fact that -as far as you knew- he hadn’t been dating anyone as well, right?

Your small theory crashed and burnt when you felt his hand softly cradling the side of your face. No. This wasn’t an adrenaline kiss, neither one that you gave without a thought. Maybe it had been unprompted and maybe you hadn’t seen it coming, but it sure as hell seemed he did. Eren’s lips gilded against your with ease, revealing a soft tenderness you didn’t know he possessed. You kissed him back, matching his rhythm as you softly pressed your hand against his chest.

Eren pulled away from you softly, and if his longing eyes were any indicator, a bit reluctantly.

“Hi,” he breathed out, making you grin widely.

“Hi,” you replied. You gently caressed his cheek with the knuckles of the hand that was previously resting on his chest. Eren took it and kissed your palm, making your heart flutter.

“Sorry to interrupt kids, but where are we heading?”

The voice of the taxi driver startled you, making you pull away from Eren. He chuckled at your reaction and then looked back at the man.

“Take us to that pizza place near the central park. Gotta have a celebratory dinner with my fiancée,” he said cheekily, taking your hand into his. You squeezed his hand back, his ring digging a little on your skin.

“So young and engaged already? Congrats!” the driver said, turning left and heading towards the direction Eren had given him.

“Thank you!” you smiled brightly at Eren while he took your joint hands to his mouth and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

A part of you knew you weren’t taking that ring off anytime soon.

#snk x reader #aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren jaeger #eren yaeger #eren fluff