#double checking your food to make sure it's right is so important

[fattributes]

Sending my love to everyone whose diet consists of chicken nuggets, plain hamburgers, macaroni and cheese, or spaghettio's. People who can only comfortably drink soda, sports drinks, or juice, I love you. People who need to feel their food with their hands before they can put it in their mouth, I love you. I’m so proud of you all for feeding yourselves and staying hydrated. I see you, you’re valid, and you're doing amazing.

#food #text #in this house we respect all of our siblings who have taste and texture aversions #food can be very hard sometimes #I know not everyone is willing to get it #but you and your experiences are enough #you're worth the time and the effort to get things right #every time you special order something to your tastes I am proud of you #double checking your food to make sure it's right is so important #I'm so glad you're all out there #happy eating my friends

[thebigbadbatswife]

Attentive!Bruce Wayne + Taking Care of You During Your Period

Tags - Periods/Menstration (obviously), Fluff, Cuddles, Comfort. A/N - This man will bend over backwards to make sure that you're okay and have everything that you need and you can't convince me otherwise. Enjoy💜

Attentive!Bruce who stirs from his light sleep when he feels you starting to move away from him during the night. Who doesn’t know anything is wrong until he reaches for you and feels you curling up into yourself, hands against your lower stomach.

Attentive!Bruce who is wide awake and knows exactly what is wrong and is already moving to pull you close to him again, his own hand replacing yours. Hoping that the warmth is enough to relax and lull you straight back into a peaceful sleep. Only to sigh sad when he realises it’s not working. Tonight appears to be worse than he originally considered.

Attentive!Bruce who presses a kiss to your skin, murmuring that he’ll be right back, before carefully untangling himself from you to get up from the bed. He makes his way to the kitchen, turning on the kettle before pouring you a glass of water and grabbing some painkillers. He leaves the kettle to boil while he makes his way back to you.

Attentive!Bruce who sets the glass and pills down on the nightstand and then makes his way into the en-suite to get the shower running before returning to you once more. Gently, he wakes you up from your fitful sleep with soft kisses and soft words, his hand rubbing your back, trying to soothe you.

Attentive!Bruce who, once you are awake, who helps you up and to the shower, so that you can get cleaned up.

Attentive!Bruce who won’t hear a word of your apologies for ruining the sheets, assuring you that it’s fine and he doesn’t care, kissing you each time and followed by him saying: “Don’t worry about it sweetheart. Focus on yourself and let me take care of everything else.” 

Attentive!Bruce who fills up your hot water bottle, placing it within your favourite fluffy cover and makes you a tea with extra sugar in it. And brings both of these back to the bedroom so that they’re waiting for you once you’re done in the shower. 

Attentive!Bruce who quickly changes the sheets and puts your towel and clean pjs into the dryer for a few minutes so that they are nice and warm for you. 

Attentive!Bruce who learnt how to do these things so that he can take care of you when you need him to. (After all what sort of partner is he if he can't look after nor do the simplest of things for you?)

Attentive!Bruce who wraps your pleasantly warm towel around you as you get out of the shower, pressing another kiss to your cheek, before leaving you to do what you need to privately.

Attentive!Bruce who, if you want him to, helps back into bed to make things easier on your aching and tired body.

Attentive!Bruce who, once you’re done with your tea, pulls you close to him, making sure the hot water bottle is pressed against your sore abdomen. His fingers run random patterns against your skin and he talks in a low, soft voice. Not about anything overly important, it’s anything that comes to mind really, just to say something. The painkillers and hot water bottle are working and he knows how soothing you find his voice. 

Attentive!Bruce who makes a mental note to double check that the pantry and fridge are stocked with your favourite foods and to run out and get anything you’re lacking on. (Or even send Alfred to go out and get so he can stay and wait on you instead).

Attentive!Bruce who doesn’t care what time it is, if you want something this man is getting up and getting it for you. He’s so in love with you (and honestly cannot believe his luck that you love him as well), so how could anything you want ever be too much? It doesn’t matter how tired he is, how difficult patrol or a case was or if he got into a fight with another Leaguer, if you want tea or something sweet at 3am you better believe he’s getting it for you. No questions or complaints. Ever.

#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x fem!reader #attentive!bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #bruce wayne x you #batman x you #bruce wayne headcanons

[zzzzzestforlife]

🎀 My That Girl Exam Success Checklist 💯

it's the day of (or before) your exam!! a gazillion thoughts may be running through your mind: should i review all my notes and flashcards one more time?? set my alarm super early to be sure to make it on time or set it super late so that i get as much sleep as possible?? let's prepare everything step by step calmly and together ☺️

The Night Before

pack your bag with everything you need — school ID, pens/pencils, erasers, rulers, calculators, extras of everything!!, brain food like nuts/chocolate, lunch, full water bottle, etc.

pick out a cute but comfy outfit — the goal is to feel as confident and laser-focused as possible!

don't skimp on your night routine — cramming does not take priority over a good night's sleep before an important day, so take care of your mind and body and trust them to take care of you too

skim the highlights/summaries/key flashcards just before bed — when you sleep, your mind is not idle! it's reorganizing and filing everything away neatly to be retrieved when you wake up, so do yourself a favor and take advantage of your mind's natural abilities!

double check your alarm — but more important than this is to go to sleep at a reasonable time that you can expect yourself to feel well-rested by the time you need to wake up, so whether you need 7, 8, 10 or more hours of sleep, go get it!! right now!! come back to this post in the morning to complete the rest of the checklist~

The Morning Of

eat breakfast(!!) — you can't think on an empty stomach!!

take your vitamins

drink water

stretch!! — get your blood flowing where it needs to go and get your energy levels up!! 💪

if you can, try not to consume anything else outside of your review materials before the exam that might confuse or preoccupy you! — sometimes it's unavoidable if it's part of your job or your other courses, so just take a quiet moment to bring your mind back to the material from time to time if necessary!

get to your exam location as early as possible you can chill and review~ (same idea as the night before, summaries, highlights, flashcards, don't get too bogged down by the details and confuse yourself at this point!)

Exam Time

arrange your desk neatly and comfortably so you can focus and find everything you need when you need it

deep breaths

one question at a time

even if it seems like you don't know or remember anything, the information will come back to you when you need it

you got this!

i believe in you 💕

#studyblr #study motivation #study inspiration #zesty's life #student life #final exams #exams #exam season #exam stress #finals season #finals week #study tips #study advice #astudentslifebuoy #heydilli #heyfrithams #heyzainab #study routine #college student #university student #university life #college life #high school #100 days of productivity #100 days of studying #100 days of self discipline #study aesthetic #studyspo #pink aesthetic #pink academia

[vampirevatican]

Bedtime in the House of Lamentation

pairing: om! brothers x reader

summary: you have a special sleep speaker that changes colors. they check in on your room when they hear noise at night, but it's not you and they find a lone light glowing their nail color or power

Lucifer - blue/red

classical music, but it's the chill kind... ya know the ones you can fall asleep to

fave songs but piano version

white noise

This was one of the nights he does his rounds of the house. Making sure his brothers, Mammon, weren't out causing trouble for him to deal with later. Being the eldest, when he does these check-ins, he'd just open the door and then leave the bedroom resident to whatever they were doing. He never thoroughly checked a room unless something suspicious was going on, or he's heard rumors regarding the resident and their bedroom.

So when he finally gets to the first floor he notes that there's a faint sound of classical music. He ends up at the front of your door and without a second thought he opens the door and is met with the speaker glowing, music flowing from it and your sleeping form.

It seems you tried to pull an all-nighter. Your phone still in your hand, covers not properly covering you, but sleeping so peacefully. A small smirk appears on his lips as he pulls the covers over you, making sure you don't get a cold, and then leaves the room. Maybe he'd need to get not cursed records and finish work earlier so you can fall asleep together.

Mammon - white/yellow

r&b. look me in the eyes and tell me he's not black. go on, yeah that's what i thought.

jazz... now hear me out, casino things

continuing casino stuff, casino ambience

When hears the faint sound of slot machines in the House of Lamentation he's in a whiplash of excited and confused. Didn't he just leave the casino? And there's no way in west devildom that Lucifer agreed to him wanting a mini casino in the house. So naturally he follows the sound and hopes for the later.

But no, it's coming from... your room?! Quickly opening the door he finds a small speaker emitting a light and your phone, charging, right next to it. "Casino ambience..." he whispers reading the title of the video in your phone screen after getting closer to it.

Awww his human missed him, well it's only right that he adds to this bedtime immersion by slipping into bed with you. Crawling into the bed with you, holding you close, he notices you almost stir awake and the small smile on your face. Damn, could you possibly be any cuter right now?! He rubs your back and soothes you back into your deep sleep and soon drifts off as well.

Leviathan - purple/orange

gamer lets plays are playing through the speaker

or maybe a game ost that has sleepy/chill vibes

acnh w/ rain background anyone?

He had left his room for a food break between gaming. He had a few raids and team rounds to do, but right now refueling was more important. That's when he hears something near the kitchen. Putting down his cup noodles he follows the sound and finds it coming from your room.

There was a faint light glowing from the crack in the door and it wasn't the usual bright yellow from the lanterns and fairy lights in the room. Pressing his ear to the door he recognizes the music being one of your cozy games. Gaining no answer from knocking on your door, or calling out to you, he opens the door and instantly covers his mouth. 'Oh my gosh they're so cute! WAIT NO THIS IS CREEP BEHAVIOR!! but...' He practically tip toes into your room and sees the speaker.

Doing a double take he leaves your room as quickly and quietly as possible... after a picture of you with the speaker's light on you first though... you're just too pretty and it's too heart-warming to know when you don't or cant sleep in his room, because you can't sleep, this is how you remedy it.

satan - green

or maybe r/no sleep, r/aita, r/dndhorrorstories, buzzfeeds are you scared

cat radio... no really cat fm

book readings

He's used to you falling asleep while reading to you, or when you'd spend time with him just to fall asleep on his lap waiting for him to finish his books. And yes he'd go cat watching with you. Even plotting to adopt a few if you both ever got the okay from Lucifer. Though he wouldn't have guessed things like that extend to you getting a good night's rest.

This particular night he was entranced by a book in the library when he heard... meowing? Though it wasn't normal meows, it was to the tune of some song. He knows that cats are known to sing sometimes but since when did either of you sneak one into the house? Following the sound he soon realizes that it's some kind of recording because what's next is a narration of a book he's read before.

Noticing the green glow from under the door he decides to check in on you and sees you knocked out. The sound of a narrator, close to his tone of voice, reading you a story as you dreamt away. He couldn't help but smile as a warm feeling took over his heart. To think you needed to hear him, or someone like him, read stories for you to properly sleep was too sweet to bare. He quietly closes the door and heads off to bed for the night.

asmo - pink

meditation or ocean sounds

true crime, makeup or both

honestly smthn that'd be trendy and recommended for sleep

First of all, he didn't expect for you to go to bed so early. Usually he's the one with an early bedtime but tonight was an exception. There was a party he was invited to and he couldn't just ignore his adoring fans.

So when he came back and heard a sleep meditation coming from your room, his curiosity gets the better of him. He decides to take a peek into your room and has to hold back a squeal over how you look sleeping. When it comes to beauty only you could rival him, and this even counts when you're sleeping!

His eyes follow where the faint pink glow is coming from and surprise! it's your little speaker. He can't help admire you and be glad you took up one of his trends. You really do care! Of course he does his bedtime routine and then cuddles up in bed with you. The pink mood lighting and how peaceful it is was just too hard to resist.

beel - red/orange

lullaby music, or 80's rock songs in music box style

podcast

snoring sounds

Beel is known for his late night kitchen rummages. Infact he got used to you not stopping him but helping by joining in or just keeping him company, you'd rarely scold him for his late night rampages. Though tonight you were no where to be found.

When he first passed by your bedroom it was relatively quiet, so he figured you were asleep. Not being able to eat how he usually would, concerned over your absence, he took only a couple snacks and checked on your room again before going back to his.

This time he notices a music box playing and a light coming from under the door. He peeks through a crack in the door he makes from opening it a little, and notices you sleeping. He smiles warmly and the grin becomes bigger when he sees where the light and sound is coming from. You and Belphie slept the same, covered with blankets and surrounded by pillows. It was endearing and he couldn't help but curl up in your room that night with his snacks.

belphie - purple/teal

fave songs but it's in music box style

asmr, and it's like a muffled city, keyboard typing, or rainy day, with music from another room

lofi

Being the Avatar of Sloth, he didn't have to go to you room to see how you were sleeping. Though you did peak his curiosity a little when he heard lofi music coming from your room. Surely you couldn't be so diligent, or a nerd, that you'd be studying at this time of night. Turns out his suspicion was correct, you weren't studying.

He was currently a by-stander of your dreams tonight and he takes note of how he appears in them. It wasn't like he was fully in your dream, no dream self to speak of, but instead things you associated with him.

Taking his powers a bit further he astral projects and finds himself right by your bed. A glow of light seems to pass through his spirit form and looking over he finds where it's coming from, along with what's making your dreams what they are. Smiling a little he looks over at your sleeping form, a bit of your face peeking out from the mass of covers, and notices that you're smiling too. "Cute." He whispers and decides to insert himself into your dreams. You wanted him so bad then fine, he'll be there.

#omswd #obey me! swd #obey me x reader #om! lucifer #om! satan #om! asmodeus #om! mammon #om! leviathan #om! beelzebub #om! belphegor

[radiant-reid]

i don’t want you to ever stop🫶🏻

wd you be down to possibly write a dad!spence piece where they pick up their kid from school together? i bet their kiddo wd be so stoked to see both parents after school & wanna just tell them all about their day

(bonus: if it’s not too much to ask; could their kid pls be called gus or margot in it?? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 ur the best!)

I did both !! even figuratively I can’t resist giving that man children

It's never been unusual for Spencer to be away for work. In fact, Gus and Margot have known him to be away their whole lives. What is odd is Spencer being away for 15 days, much more than usual, thanks to back-to-back cases.

They only got to talk to him on the phone twice, making them miss him even more, and he was home after they went off to school this morning.

Having to leave you three has always been the worst part of his job, and after a long nap, he’s preparing snacks for his babies after school, planning for when you bring them home.

With a plan of your own, you leave work early so you can swing by home and pick him up.

He’s excited on the way there, like you imagine little Spencer was when he attended school, and he tells you all about the exhausting fortnight he’s had while you fill him in on some of the moments he’s missed at home, purposefully leaving some out for the kids to tell him.

You wait at the school gate holding hands, and Spencer thinks it’s admirable that you know so many of the moms and dads.

Gus gets out first and he always comes through the gate to find you quickly. Today, he sees Spencer first, probably thanks to his dad’s height and sprints over.

Spencer crouches down to let his little boy jump into his arms, picking him up and spinning him around. “Hey, buddy.” Spencer says, tightly hugging him.

“You’re home!” Gus cheers. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” Spencer tells him. You watch them in awe, not even a little mad that you’re left holding your son’s backpack without acknowledgment.

When he pulls back, Gus looks at you, then back at Spencer as he double checks what he’s seeing. “Mom and dad?”

You nod, enjoying his excitement. “And maybe an after school treat.”

His eyes widen even more as he looks at Spencer again. “Donuts?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” He says.

“Then I must be really smart because you’re really smart.” Gus giggles, always music to your ears.

Spencer chuckles with him. “I’m pretty sure that you’re the smart one. What place did you win in the science fair?”

Gus can talk forever, and he starts to about his science fair victory last week for the project he and Spencer worked hard on. It does pay to have a dad with 3 STEM PhDs.

Margot always takes longer to reach the gate, dawdling and chatting with her little friends about important 7 year old girl stuff.

When she gets there, she sees you first and then her brother before her eyes land on the man holding her brother, and her face lights up.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.” She chants as she comes skipping over.

“Hey, sweet girl.” Spencer greets her, leaning down to pick her up with his other arm.

She snuggles into his side, kissing his cheek. “I missed you, daddy.”

“I missed you too, princess.” Spencer tells her. “Do you want to go get a treat? I want to hear all about your dance.”

“All of us?” She looks between you and Spencer for confirmation.

You nod. “The boys thought we could get donuts.”

Identically to Gus and Spencer’s, her eyes go wide at the mention of the food. “Yes, please. Let’s go right now because I have so much to tell you about today and dance.”

“I’ve got lots to tell as well.” Gus pipes up and you know you’re going to be spending all afternoon listening to slightly embellished truths and every detail a 5 and 7 year old deem important about their days, but there’s nowhere you’d rather be.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds

[abibliophobiaa]

I Will Wait

Chapter Two (9k)

a soulmate!fakemarriage!au with rockstar!eddie and personalassistant!reader (also featuring ronance)

cowritten by @abibliophobiaa, @blue-mossbird, @breddiemunson, @myosotisa, and @fracturedarkness​ 

18+ only for mature themes, alcohol consumption, and eventual sexual content. fem!reader

one (9.9k) | next (15k) | masterlist  |  AO3  |  🎵 shmackin' tunes

in this universe, there is no upside down, the year is 1995, and corroded coffin = nine inch nails. if you didn't check out the prequel publications (hot off the press on our series masterlist), make sure you do, since they provide important backstory for the IWW universe! read them carefully; there are secrets. 😉

Eddie’s passion didn’t scare you, but anxiety now crawls up your throat as your eyes dart to the clock on the wall, which reads just after eleven. Frozen in sudden indecision, you just stare at him with surprised eyes.

“What?” Eddie scoffs, “Did you think we wouldn’t need to eat? What kind of assistant are you?” He crosses his arms, arching a critical brow, nose wrinkled in a scowl as your mouth falls open. For a moment, you’re at a loss. 

An unexpected voice interjects, smooth and calm. “My dude,” Argyle drawls, “to be fair to the little lady, she did ask you if you wanted her to do anything. And she did exactly what you told her to do.” Faced with Argyle’s defense of you, Eddie’s scowl deepens and the tension in the room rises.

You swallow down your panic, squaring your shoulders and standing tall under his disapproval. “I apologize for the oversight, Mr. Munson. I’ll take care of it right now.”

“Seriously, Ed?” Jeff cuts in, pushing off the sunken couch with his hands on his knees, eyebrows drawn together in frustration. “Was she just supposed to—”

“No, no. It’s my fault,” you assure the group with a smile, stepping in the line of fire to calm the sudden unease and keep the situation from escalating. “I’ll run and grab food for everyone and be back in no time.”

The other men mumble an agreement, seemingly happy that it didn’t become a larger issue. You attempt to make eye contact with Eddie as you prepare to leave in a hurry but he pays you no mind, bending at the waist to confer with Argyle. Deciding it would be better not to ask additional questions and potentially cause your new client more displeasure, you loop your pocketbook over your shoulder and push out into the hallway— leaving the pressure of the confrontation behind.

As soon as you reach the elevator again, the mirrored doors sliding closed behind you to grant a moment of privacy, you allow your shoulders to deflate. While you are no stranger to dealing with unearned irritation directed your way, the speed with which Eddie seems to ricochet between moods is staggering. It leaves behind a sense of instability that threatens to shake the very foundations of what rests upon it, as though even a single moment of vulnerability could send you flying off your feet.

With each passing hour, you understand more and more clearly what Steve was referring to when he insisted that Eddie ‘needed someone who could handle him.’ And, despite the subtle missteps so far, you find yourself ever more determined to make sure that person is you.

The doors slide open to the bottom floor and you exit with a renewed vigor, setting your attention to completing the task at hand. Your shoes echo even louder across the tile now that the building is seemingly devoid of life— the front desk and lobby beyond are entirely empty. With that sight comes the startling realization that you are in an unfamiliar part of the city in the middle of the night, and you have to find something quick to bring the boys to eat. A slight hesitation as you rack your brain for the best way forward ends up being your salvation: your savior coming in the form of an older man making his way out of one of the double doors across from the entrance. He pushes along a bright yellow bucket by the handle of his mop, water sloshing loudly as he inches forward, head bopping to the beat of whatever plays from the headphones settled on his ears. You immediately power walk over to him, the movement catching his eye as he rears back in near alarm and slides one of the cups off his ear to face you.

“Hi, sorry to bother you,” you greet with a smile, “I was wondering if you might be able to help me?”

Wrinkled, deep set green eyes blink back at you, surprised and unsure, as he drawls out, “What can I do ya for?”

“I’m not from around this side of town and I need to grab some food quickly. Do you have any recommendations for something that would be open around this time?”

He visibly relaxes, eyebrows raising in pleased surprise as he offers a grin that lacks a few of his teeth, the others yellowed from nicotine. “Boy, are you a fan of chopped cheese?”

In another strike of what feels like fate, you find yourself eternally grateful for the city that never sleeps.

Following the janitor’s vague directions, you cross the threshold into a brightly lit sandwich shop that is bustling with energy despite the hour. Blue collar workers of all kinds fill the space, conversing happily and giving each other a hard time between bites of greasy food. And, to your relief, none of them seem to pay you any mind as you make your way to the counter and pick out a variety of food from the handwritten board that hangs above the cash register. The man taking your order doesn’t say a word other than to tell you the total, which alerts you to the fact that you weren’t given a way to pay for this. Gritting your teeth, you offer up the cash from your own pocketbook, nearly emptying it completely, and watch with a sense of dread as he gets you your change and huffs that it should only be a few minutes before it’s ready. You make a mental note to reach out to Steve about how situations like this should be handled in the future and to get reimbursed for what you just paid.

Stuck with nothing to do but wait, your attention wanders across the room. There are many different types of men here – some young, some old, some dirty and tired, some fresh-faced and ready to conquer the day. Converging between the swap of shifts, sharing stories and shooting the shit. No one table is excluded from the revelry, each group interacting with what seems like everyone in the room. A contained ecosystem of hard earned repose and comradery between people who may not know each other by name, but by the hardships and struggles they each experience day by day. Forged in the dark of night and the effort of refueling around a hard day's work – both in body and soul.

A bark of your name rockets you back into reality and across the slightly sticky floor to receive what you’d ordered, throwing out thank you’s and other platitudes as you grip the plastic bags in your fists and push back out into the night in a hurry.

You’re borderline out of breath by the time you’re yanking at the cold metal handles of the studio’s heavy doors, a stark contrast to how you had crossed the threshold just a few hours ago. You shuffle across the tile as fast as your heels will allow; once safely in the elevator again, you take the time to catch your breath and return to some semblance of order, preparing to face what the rest of the night holds for you.

There’s a rush of air as you shoulder your way back into the studio, feeling eyes on you immediately. “Food’s here,” you offer, lifting the bags with a smile. Gareth and Harry sigh in what looks like relief, the former immediately hopping over to you as if he can not wait another second to get his hands on whatever you had brought. You shoo him over to the coffee table between the couches, sparing a glance through the glass as you pass. Jeff and Eddie face each other with warring grins, appearances almost taunting, fingers flying across strings as they play a duet that only Argyle can hear. Ripping your attention from the booth, it takes mere moments for you to spread your bounty across the wood, a huge pile of hot fries in the middle and a selection of sandwiches with vague lettering sharpied on their paper wrappers. Gareth and Harry both grab for one, seeming not to care exactly what’s on it, as you also grab one of the greasy sachets and slip it to Argyle. He looks surprised for a moment but then offers you a leant back nod, a lazy smile, and a thumbs up before returning his attention to the mixing board before him.

It doesn’t take long for Eddie and Jeff to realize the food is here. They tumble out of the recording room, exchanging friendly jabs as you sit down on the couch beside Harry, carefully unwrapping your own sandwich. Caught up in the whirlwind of your new job, you hadn’t noticed just how hungry you’ve become until the soft hero roll emerges from greasy parchment. The sandwich is split in the middle, and as you pull apart the halves, putting one on the coffee table so you can dig into the other, Jeff and Eddie stagger their way over to the couches, pushing one another as they go; Jeff makes it to the table first, flopping down beside Gareth on the opposite couch. You’re distracted from their bantering by a groan of deep contentment.

“Oh, my God,” Gareth moans around a mouthful, tilting against an unphased Argyle. “This is so good.”

Harry nods his eager agreement. “I love chopped cheese,” he says, his voice a quiet rumble beside you, and you smile at him. He glances at you shyly before returning to his meal with a pleased curve to his lips.

You’re about to take a bite when the couch dips down on your other side; it draws your eyes to wild curls and stiff limbs as Eddie snatches the final sandwich from the table. He unwraps it hastily, widening his knees and slouching against the creaky leather of the couch, eyes locked on his dinner. He looks largely neutral, but there is a vague tightness to his brow, a pinch to his mouth that implies he’s annoyed by something. And when his knee nudges even further into your space, nearly brushing against yours, it becomes clear what that is.

He doesn’t seem to like that you’re taking up space beside him, that he has to accommodate you in any way, even in something as simple as sharing a couch. Whereas Harry is sitting normally at your side, and on the other couch, Jeff, Gareth, and Argyle are happily fitted together, you are forced to shift over in order to avoid his aggressive elbow as Eddie tears at the paper of his wrapped sandwich. He slouches even lower into the couch, as if to insist on his own comfort at the expense of yours.

You scoot closer to Harry and return your gaze to your sandwich, trying not to let Eddie’s behavior affect you as you take the first bite. Savory meat, melty cheese, crisp lettuce and sweet tomato act as an adequate distraction, and all that fills the recording room are the crinkling of parchment and the muffled sounds of food being enjoyed until you ask, “So, what’s the new album going to be called?”

It opens the floodgates. The guys are more than happy to inform you of their creative decisions over greasy chopped cheese. They talk over one another as they gesture wildly, threatening to fling loose lettuce and bits of steak all over the leather couches and the cherry-wood coffee table as they recount the story of their latest album’s conception. The only one who stays quiet is Eddie— though, as you sneak peeks at him from the corner of your eye while you eat your sandwich as daintily as you can, he doesn’t seem to be sullen anymore. Instead, a faint smile plays on his lips in-between giant messy bites of beef and cheese as he lets his bandmates enthuse over their latest creation. Even when they mention him specifically, like when Harry remarks, “It was Ed’s idea to have the whole thing represent someone’s life going down the shitter,” Eddie merely nods, his cheek dimpling as he sucks grease from the pad of his thumb.

By the time empty crumpled paper hits the coffee table, the guys are ready to return to recording with a sense of renewed vigor. They lurch up from the couch, bellies full and fingers itching for their instruments as they file back into the recording studio. Argyle mosies his way to the soundboard and you follow him, surveying the different lights, switches and sliders with curiosity; you watch his hands flit around the complex board with practiced ease, tapping and nudging things so quickly it’s hard to follow.

Argyle angles the mounted microphone closer to his lips to drawl, “Alright, ah… Jeff—” He snaps his fingers, shooting a finger gun towards the plexiglass. “What’re we starting with?”

You look up towards Jeff to see him flash an open palm and a peace sign, which seems incomprehensible until Argyle confirms. “Track seven. Sweet.”

Jeff shoots him a smile and a thumbs up, and as you look away, your gaze catches deep brown.

Eddie is staring at you.

As soon as you register it— the split second you catch him watching you— Eddie’s eyes widen and dart away, expression flashing with an emotion that looks out of place on his typically-assured face. And then it’s gone. Just as quickly, as though it had never existed, that vulnerable expression is replaced by a quirked eyebrow, smugly narrowed lips, and an even, penetrating stare as his eyes return to yours. Before you can even think about it, he’s beckoning you toward him with a crooked finger.

Obligingly— it is your job, after all— you leave Argyle’s side and pull open the heavy glass door to the recording room.

The space is not overly generous, but it is large enough to give each band member a comfortable buffer of space with his instrument. The drums are set up near the back, with Harry on the left and Jeff on the right, a guitar strapped against his chest but flipped around to the back as he stands in front of the keyboard. There’s a boxy amp covered by a shield to dampen the sound in the corner opposite the door, and Eddie is standing beside it, dark-clad legs spread wide as he hooks a forearm casually against his red electric guitar.

“Yes?” you ask him neutrally, though it’s difficult to hold back the roll of your eyes when he doesn’t reply, merely beckoning you with that same finger again. You breathe slowly through your nose as you walk over to him, planting your feet right before him though your heels wobble slightly on the springy carpet. Your pleasant face grows a touch flatter as he regards you silently, blinking slowly— clearly wanting to keep you waiting, to make you pay for the split-second of whatever he’d felt when you caught him staring.

Eventually, a crooked grin spreads on Eddie’s lips as he looks at you, and your brow twitches in alarm as Eddie abruptly lifts one heavy booted foot and thumps it down on top of the amp. The move stretches his tight pants even tighter, pulling the rips at his knees to reveal pale skin underneath. It draws your eye, tempting it to run over the angular bones; they’re strong and dense, substantial beneath string that cuts shallow indents into his skin.

“Tie my boot.”

Your gaze shoots straight to his face. “Excuse me?” you ask, neutral mask slipping as some incredulousness leaks through. 

Eddie’s expression doesn’t waver as he nods his head towards his foot in a flippant little jerk. “Laces are loose, and I don’t wanna take Sweetheart off.” When he pats the guitar fondly, you realize he’s referring to his instrument. “Such a pain. So be a good little assistant and tie my shoe for me.”

You look at the scuffed Doc Marten propped against the top of the amp’s shield near your upper thigh. Indeed, the laces on Eddie’s boot are untied, dangling loosely, but you also notice that they’d clearly been tied very sloppily— they aren’t even laced all the way up to the top. Sucking your teeth and resisting a grumble, you comply with your client’s demand, bending slightly at the waist to tighten the laces before you tie them. But the thought of doing this again— ever, really— causes irritation to pang deep in your stomach. If he’d just tie his shoes properly, I wouldn’t need to do this. 

Rather than just knotting the laces, you take a moment to thread them deftly through each hole, tugging extra tight between each row until you reach the top where his pants are stuffed into them. With a quick pair of bunny ears and a double-knot, you’re done, straightening at the waist and staring again into Eddie’s face, unable to keep the defiant spark from your eye.

You find Eddie with his lips twisted smugly, tongue bulging against one cheek, dark eyes glittering with amusement. “Well,” he says, his voice deep and musical, “now you’ve gotta do the other one up to the top, too. A rockstar can’t have two mismatched boots. What will my fans think?”

“Fine,” you say, a little tightly, waiting for him to switch that foot to the amp. But he doesn’t; instead, Eddie just stares at you expectantly until you huff a tiny indignant breath and crouch down to retie his boot on the floor.

You know, then, that the entire thing has been meant to humiliate you, to remind you of your place— squarely below him, looking up at him as he towers over you, curls a wild cyclone around his pale, angular face. The fact isn’t lost on the others. “Really?” Harry’s typically quiet voice is a scoff, and you yank extra hard on Eddie’s laces as you hear his defense of you, feeling vindicated. I hope I cut his circulation off. He’ll never ask me to tie his shoes again, you think sourly, flexing your calves as you tug the double-knot tight and begin to rise.

Though the plush carpet in the recording room is good for sound absorption, it’s not so good for balance when one is wearing heels; you find your left foot wobbling as you try to straighten so hastily, and a spike of adrenaline bursts inside you as you feel your ankle weaken.

Two things happen.

One: your hand darts out, automatically seeking stability from the closest object, which just so happens to be Eddie. Your fingers clutch the bony knob of his knee, pressing desperately to threads and the hot skin exposed between them.

Two: as you waver, Eddie sways forward and his hand jerks out to catch your opposite elbow in a firm, broad palm, applying pressure to keep you stable.

Instantly, you burst with feeling. 

Sparks bloom from each point of contact, racing up your arms and trailing goosebumps in their wake until they meet in the middle behind your ribs. They pop and fizzle, colliding as tingling waves that reverberate outward from your center. The feeling overwhelms you, making your breath catch in your chest and your spine jerk ramrod straight as you push up from Eddie’s knee. The cold solidity of his guitar brushes against your front as he straightens with you; his head jerks back so you don’t collide with his chin.

Just as quickly as it happened, in the matter of a second, Eddie’s hand drops from your elbow and you step back from him, crossing your arms beneath your breasts. That same uncanny feeling from earlier— that low pang in your stomach, not altogether unpleasant— returns, reignited by the feeling of his hot skin under your fingers and the firmness of his grip on your arm.

“T-thank you,” you start to say, voice wavering slightly as you try to recover from the sudden unexpected intensity of your feeling. But then Eddie rubs the side of his neck with the same hand that caught your elbow. When his chunky rings glint in the light of the room, demanding your attention, it lingers on one in particular.

It’s a heavy dose of reality when you see the platinum band on his ring finger, more elegant and polished than the chunky aggressive rings adorning his other fingers. He’s my client. And he’s married. 

It’s all that’s needed to have you stamping insistently down on that feeling again. When you glance at Eddie’s face, the wideness of his eyes and the downturn of his mouth belies the same tension you suddenly feel. Desperate to cut through what suddenly envelops the room, you blurt a lightly teasing remark. “Next time, Mr. Munson,” you say, “wear velcro shoes if you don’t know how to tie your boots.”

Thankfully, your voice doesn’t waver this time, and your lips even curl in a small smirk when you hear the strength of Gareth’s sudden barking laughter. You don’t wait around for Eddie to offer a response; with Gareth’s mirth accompanying you, you stride from the room, letting the thick glass door mute the sound of his amusement as it thumps closed behind you. You’re grateful for the privacy that the distance affords you; you have no interest in letting Eddie see how his proximity affected you in the booth. You won’t let him see the momentary chink in your tweed armor, the effect just a knick of his touch has had on your composure.  

The cold glass door provides respite for your heated body as you lean against it. You take a moment to collect yourself, to rescue your composure from the pull of Eddie’s rip current before it can be swept further out into turbulent waters. Your hand settles over your heart, feeling it thud wildly against your palm as you wait, reminding yourself of the need for patience. You’re no stranger to feeling this pressure of restraint. Breathe in. Breathe out. Eventually, your goosebumps settle, your blood stops burning, and your lungs fill with air once more. 

Once you feel a little more composed, you retreat to the soundboard to keep Argyle company, hoping that his mellow presence can imbue in you the tranquility needed to survive the night. Gathering every remaining ounce of poise you possess, you lift your chin and look through the glass to see the band preparing for their next take. Gareth makes himself more comfortable on his stool. Harry and Jeff check the tuning of their instruments. And then there’s Eddie, who appears to be more interested in staring you down with those dark eyes instead of preparing to play. He folds his arms over his chest, and his sharp gaze sizes you up in a clear response to your earlier sass. You stare back, eyes unblinking and face impassive. Though the prickling heat threatens again, you don’t let it show, thinking of Jason and all of his attempts to intimidate you into submission. Don’t let him. I never gave Jason the satisfaction, and he won’t get it either.

“Alright, my talented amigos. Show me just how rad you can be.” When your staring contest with Eddie is broken by Argyle’s fried drawl, you’re not entirely sure who is the victor.

Argyle leans back in his swivel chair, lacing his fingers behind his head, his giant headphones hung abandoned on the hook mounted beneath the soundboard as the studio blares with sound. You stand at his side for some time, watching the guys perform. And as the music picks up, you find yourself hypnotized by their talent once again. The familiarity of lifelong friendship makes the band’s coordination appear seamless, almost second nature as Eddie and Harry catch eyes across the room, nodding together when guitar and bass fall into sync. Eddie leans back, lifting his angular guitar as he flourishes at the end of his next lick, and you watch the bobbing of Jeff’s head deepen as he shoots his friend a broad grin.

Time passes, enough time for you to retire to the couch, though you choose the one that still affords you a view into the recording room. There’s no less wanting from the men— no less striving for their product—  but as the night goes on, the process seems to begin taking a physical toll on them. You’d watched the growing consternation as Argyle asked Eddie to re-record a verse several times; his voice is straining, fatigued from the hours of singing, and you can hear the difference. When it cracks again not even two lines in, resulting in another failed attempt, instruments squeal to a halt as Eddie shakes the dented microphone by its stand, soft nose wrinkled up and teeth bared in frustration.

“C’mon—!” he grinds out, and you’re half up off the couch before Argyle takes over, interjecting with his calm drawl.

“Bro, maybe you should think about resting those bodacious vocal chords,” he suggests. “Give those puppies a break.” 

 Eddie snorts in stubborn refusal, his damp curls shaking until his head abruptly stills. His face lights up as though he has had a groundbreaking revelation; a playful smile slides across his plush lips. 

“I know just the cure,” he sing-songs dramatically, pursing his lips as, with a jerk of his arm, he snaps his fingers in your direction. You can hear the sharp sound vaguely echoing through the microphone inside the recording room.

Within a moment, you’re at the glass door; despite the earlier tension, it’s all water under the bridge now that it’s time to do your job. You dutifully pull it open to poke your head inside. “You summoned me?”

“Yes,” Eddie says, brows flashing and voice utterly serious. “Listen carefully, now. I have an incredibly urgent task for you.” He pauses dramatically, brown eyes wide in an attempt at earnestness. “It is of the utmost importance.” 

Internally, you brace yourself, knowing that whatever he says next will be anything but important. You feel the impulse rise up your throat, sarcastic words dancing on the tip of your tongue. Maybe you should take acting lessons from your wife. It takes considerably too much effort to resist it, but you do; instead, you raise your eyebrows and incline your head towards him in a nonverbal prompt— Go on. 

“I need you,” he claps his hands together, folding his fingers until just his indexes are pointed at you, “to go get me some whiskey.” 

The recording room hums with reactions from the rest of his bandmates: a groan from Jeff, a delighted guffaw from Gareth, and an uneasy sway from Harry, accompanied by a little uncomfortable chuckle.

Exasperated disbelief creases your brow. “...Whiskey?” you question once you’ve recovered from the initial shock of the request. You’d known what Eddie would ask wouldn’t be serious, but you didn’t expect it to be this absurd.

Eddie’s voice, even croakier than usual thanks to his fatigued vocal chords, is full of condescension. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Don’tcha know that whiskey can soothe a sore throat?” His tone sharpens, a victorious smile curling on his lips as he eyes you. “You wouldn’t want me to delay this album now, would you? This voice is our money maker.”

“More like his voice drives us up the wall,” Gareth wisecracks. Eddie swiftly knocks him upside the head, hushing the drummer immediately, though the younger man’s eyes glitter in amusement as he rubs the back of his head. 

When you continue to hesitate, any last vestiges of playfulness slide from Eddie’s face. “Listen.” There’s that hardness you’d been confronted with at the beginning of the night; his tone brokers no argument. It’s the tone of a man who’s driven countless personal assistants toward the door with their tails between their legs. “You’re my PA. Doing what I say is your job. So if I ask you to get me a bottle of fuckin’ whiskey, you do it. Do you understand?”

You swallow. He is right; it is your job. “Of course, Mr. Munson,” you reply, face carefully impassive as his eyes search yours. When he leans back and huffs through his nose, your shoulders relax fractionally.

“Alright, guys, let’s take a break ‘til the good stuff gets here,” he says, pulling Sweetheart over his neck and setting the guitar on the stand beside him. “Run along, now,” he says mockingly, flicking his fingers in your direction.

As they all start to drift towards where you stand, your mind races; automatically, you move out of the way for them to exit the recording room, holding the door as you think. Yes, it is your job to do what he asks, and it would also give you a chance to escape the studio for some time to be away from his taunting. But something makes you pause. You’ve already depleted your cash source from buying the men dinner. How were you going to pay for a bottle of whiskey, too? You’re not their ATM. And while you aren’t typically in the habit of pressing the issue, as the men take their seats on the couches to wait for you, you decide you will not be jeopardizing your financial stability for the sake of buying this man booze.

You let the glass door thump closed, mentally steeling yourself as you pull your pocketbook over your head. “And how would you like to pay for your whiskey?” you ask Eddie. “I can take your card, or you can give me cash.” 

He casts a glance of disbelief around the couch he’s sprawled on, catching his bandmates’ eyes. They’re quiet, attention bouncing between you both as Eddie scoffs, “I’m not giving you shit. Just pay for it yourself and get Harrington to reimburse you.”

“Well, seeing as how I already paid for your dinner, I’m a little low on funds,” you explain, careful to remain firm but not contentious, standing tall against his onslaught. “So, it’s either you give me a way to pay or you don’t get your whiskey. The choice is yours.”

 The silence in the room after you deliver your ultimatum seems heavier, more oppressive than a moment ago. It’s a tense standoff: you in your heels and tweed, standing calmly at the edge of the coffee table, and Eddie in his leather and chains, staring up at you through the wild curls of his disheveled bangs. Everyone else in the room is looking between you and Eddie as if they’re eager to see the next serve in a verbal tennis match. The silence extends for an uncomfortable duration, but you refuse to break under the heaviness of his stare. You know your request is more than reasonable, and the justice of it keeps you from backing down.

Eddie Munson may be stubborn, but so are you.

With a huff, Eddie shifts his hips, tilting so he can reach into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. With a sneer, he digs limber fingers in the envelope and pulls out a hundred-dollar bill, holding it between two fingers and extending his hand with a dramatic, resigned flop. You smile politely in thanks, but when you attempt to take it from him, his fingers tighten on the paper. 

“Don’t get any of that cheap shit,” he orders, eyeing you as he keeps a firm hold on the bill. You two are tethered by the thin, green paper, which would tear if one of you applied more force. But you don’t; instead, you reply, “I understand, Mr. Munson.” When he still doesn’t let go, you add, “Is there a brand you prefer?”

Eddie grunts, finally releasing the bill, effectively freeing you from his hold. “Just none of that Carver piss-water,” he mutters. “Top-shelf, or as close as you can get with this. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” The word slips out automatically, like it would for Steve Harrington, or Jason Carver, or your boss at the community college you worked at prior to Carver Distilleries. Eddie doesn’t comment, but the sudden gleam in his eye— amber brown, like sun through whiskey— follows you onto the elevator and onto the sidewalk as you burst out onto the city streets.

The hustle and bustle of New York city has noticeably waned now, and it has you hastily pushing up your sleeve to check the dainty watch strapped on your wrist. The time is late— later than you are typically awake, nearly too late, in fact— and it dawns on you that you’ll need to find an option soon since closing time for most places is rapidly approaching. Your eyes dart across the buildings on the block, searching for the word ‘liquor,’ but a quick survey yields no results. Picking a random direction and hoping for the best goes against everything inside you, but in your desperation, you realize you have no choice. 

A glance to the right yields nothing but darkened windows and silence, so left it is.

You hasten your pace, walking one block and then another. And when the neon sign flickers the words ‘Starcourt Liquor’ above your head, managing to find a liquor store with ten minutes to spare before closing feels like a miracle. 

The shop owner seems less than thrilled to have you entering his business so late, so you toss an apologetic grimace in his direction before rushing to the whiskey section, eyes scanning for nothing but price— as close to a hundred bucks as possible to follow Eddie’s instruction. Being so unthorough makes your stomach squirm as you rush back to the front and thump the thick glass bottle on the countertop, but you don’t have even a moment to second-guess yourself. You always ruminate on your options, assessing the choices carefully before selecting the best one. This— plunking down a pricy purchase without even examining the label— is enough to have panic biting at the back of your throat.

Nevertheless, the purchase is quickly made, and you jingle out the shop door with Eddie’s whiskey bottle wrapped in paper. As you make your way back to the studio, you try to shake away your negative thoughts. Clearly, if I want to survive being Eddie Munson’s PA, I’m going to have to stop overanalyzing everything and go with my gut sometimes. 

More than anything else tonight— Eddie’s taunts, his cold demeanor, the nerves that accompany a new situation— this thought is what rattles you the most. It’s something you’ve always struggled with; the pressure to be the best version of yourself has led you to dissect every decision that is presented to you. Every choice, no matter how seemingly small, feels significant when you consider the implications of what’s awaiting you. There’s always this little voice in your ear whispering insidiously: 

Choose right, and you’ll find what you’ve always been searching for. All that you want will be yours. 

Choose, y/n. 

Just choose, but you’d better not be wrong.

When your heel nearly gets stuck in a crack on the sidewalk and you stumble to keep your balance, you realize you need to snap out of it. This is just a bottle of whiskey, you remind yourself. Eddie will have to take what I give him. Finally, you’re back inside; the records line the walls, the elevator dings, and before long. you’re faced with that heavy metal door again, the one that separates you from your client beyond. 

You pause before opening it. You think of all the tasks you’ve accomplished today; you think of how you’ve prevailed against all of Eddie’s little tests.  

“I can do this,” you remind yourself in a whisper. “I can do tough things.” And you know it’s true. It just takes your own voice sometimes to drown those sibilant whispers out, to remind you of the light inside, standing strong and tall and steadfast against the waves.

Confidence renewed, you open the door to find the band deep in discussion with Argyle. Their heads turn at your entrance, and the conversation pauses. But unlike earlier this evening, when the pressure of their stares felt oppressive, they glance off you now. Your light swings in their direction, washing them with a glow that chases the threat of shadows away.

“Will this suffice, Mr. Munson?” you ask, handing the bottle over to Eddie. He takes your offering from your outstretched hand, leaving it empty. You fold your hands in front of you, waiting as he silently turns the bottle over in his broad grasp, assessing the label carefully. After a moment of extended silence, Eddie finally looks up at you. A dimple emerges with the stretch of his smirk; ruddy ringed fingers close firmly around the neck as he wrenches the cork off with a pop and takes an unceremonious swig.

The whiskey must be strong, because his adam’s apple only bobs twice before he’s lowering the bottle from his now-slick lips. And you were right; when he isn’t glowering at you, the amber of Eddie’s eyes looks just like warm light shining through a whisky glass.

“Just what the doctor ordered,” Eddie quips, swiping the back of his tattooed hand across his plush lips. They drag with his fingers before pulling into a grin. “Now buzz off, you little insect. We’re busy here.” 

Eddie waves you off as if you actually are an insect, and the sting of his blatant dismissal is only soothed by the sympathetic looks Harry and Jeff dart your way as he continues planning with his fellow band members. It’s rude, certainly, but at least it releases you to your own devices.

Still, when the men shuffle back into the recording room, your hands begin to fidget with the anxious desire to feel productive; you’re caught between aiming to make a good impression but not wanting to disrupt the band’s creative process, especially as Eddie has made it clear that he doesn’t need anything from you. If they don’t need me right now, then I’ll just have to make myself busy.

An idea comes to mind. You think back to how your first task of the day brought you to the mess that is Schmackin’ Records’ studio closet. The small space is overflowing with cardboard boxes affixed with nonsensical labels, which only makes everyone’s job harder— yours and Argyle’s, in particular. Revisiting the closet would allow you to continue familiarizing yourself with Corroded Coffin’s discography while helping to make things more organized— two birds, one stone. 

You search the studio for supplies; masking tape, a marker, and other items useful to you are all, ironically enough, found buried within the very place you’re looking to organize. With a quick roll of your sleeves and accompanied by the gravelly voice of Eddie in your headphones, you get to work. You methodically relabel each box by artist and organize each item within in meticulous chronological order. You’re careful to store away any loose cords and equipment scattered on the floor, winding each coil in a perfected loop before tucking them away in appropriate storage spaces. It’s soothing to make sense of the chaos, to bring peace to disquiet, to bring order to the disorderly. You’ve always found comfort working like this, left to your own devices within your element, thriving in the peace of solitude.

Nearly three hours later, you’ve rearranged the collection in its entirety. The closet looks neat and tidy, vastly improved from what you initially stumbled upon hours ago. You return to the lounge area feeling accomplished, heels thumping against floors, head tipped up high as you move to rejoin the main room. The band is situated around the soundboard, listening to a playback from one of the tracks they just recorded while Argyle offers feedback. Upon seeing you reappear, Argyle pauses his commentary, wheeling chair twirling enough until he’s facing you, eyes darting up to yours.

“Hey there, dudette! Where have you been hiding?” he asks, head bobbing with his words. That dark, shiny raven hair dances in the dim light, casting it in a honey glow, those soft eyes of his kind and comforting—enough so to quell the rapid thrum of your heart as the others shift to gaze your way.

“Ah, I noticed that some of the items in the storage closet were in need of organization,” you reply sheepishly, awkwardly throwing a thumb over one shoulder, indicating the closet you’ve since reorganized. “I fixed some of the labels and cleared off the floor. I hope that isn’t a problem.” 

“Well that is mighty nice of you,” Argyle compliments, reaching his hand up to give you a high five. Your hand claps against his, warmth curling around your palm, lips tugging into a soft smile at the man lounging before you.

Your actions seem to intrigue Eddie, those liquid amber eyes of his darting in your vicinity. He peers around you towards the newly-organized space, brows climbing high against his forehead. When his gaze returns to yours, his face is masked in an unreadable expression. He looks as though he is trying desperately to hide that he is impressed. 

“Maybe I should tell you to buzz off more often,” he comments, and only then does he allow it: the slightest dimple of his cheek as he smirks. And yes, it’s still a smirk, but it’s significantly less sharp and cutting than the ones he’d aimed at you earlier tonight. 

The observation isn’t a compliment, but you suppose it’s the closest thing to one you can expect from Eddie. Despite the urge to rise to challenge those words, his manner makes you pause; you’re still trying to think of how to respond when he turns away from you, seemingly already exhausted by showing you a scrap of kindness. 

As the boys file back into the recording room and the night continues to stretch on, you feel a palpable shift in energy within the studio. Their playful nature has transitioned to something less enthusiastic and more irritable. They reach a point where they’re spinning in circles – stuck on a track that isn’t quite ready yet. You listen to them debate over stylistic differences, hung up on the minute details embedded in the sound. As an observer, you clearly recognize that exhaustion has clouded their creative flow and left them feeling drained, each quick to argue and reluctant to concede to the others. 

You’re empathetic to it, really. Your feet are screaming for solace after spending hours confined in heels. Your head is pounding from the constant barrage of sound and pressure to problem-solve. You check your watch – 4:37 am. Your new schedule is so out of sync with your normal circadian rhythm, and your body is paying the price for it. 

The boys continue to bicker, too engrossed in perfecting the song to recognize the need for a break. You are not alone in your observations, as Argyle suddenly leans forward on his chair, pensive and serious as he regards the room.

“Alright, my dudes. I think we’ve made some gnarly progress. How about we pick up with these shmackin’ tunes tomorrow. Same time?” Argyle’s suggestion sends relief through your exhausted body, knowing that you may soon be graced with some respite. 

A silence befalls the group as they weigh Argyle’s counsel. Gareth, Harry, and Jeff remain silent, looking to Eddie for a decision. You find this odd. Is it because Eddie is the front man, or because they believe he is most likely to be defiant? After a moment of consideration, Eddie acquiesces to Argyle’s suggestion. You take this as your cue to call a private driver on Eddie’s behalf. 

You watch the men as they gather their belongings and prepare to leave. The impending rest lifts their spirits, and their banter returns in full swing. Gareth and Harry playfully nag Jeff about ‘getting home to the Mrs.’ while making kissing noises. The loving undertone in their teasing is indisputable, and Jeff waves them off goodnaturedly. As the three continue exchanging quips, you notice that Eddie remains uncharacteristically quiet, his lips downturned as he watches them joke around. Chin tipped down, dark eyes not quite caught in a glower, but he’s certainly no ray of sunshine. He turns away from them, choosing instead to hang back with Argyle as he prepares to close up the studio. 

“You did good, newbie. See you around!” Gareth playfully calls out as he leaves. Harry opts for a simple, shy wave as he follows Gareth’s lead. 

“Hey, uh… can I talk to you for a minute?” Jeff’s quiet request feels gentle, so unlike the orders Eddie has sent your way today, the latter’s requests feeling more like demands. The two of you make your way to the corner of the studio to speak privately. 

“Yes, of course. Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, nothing like that. You don’t have to be in PA mode with me, okay? I just wanted to tell you that you did a great job today.” Jeff offers, smiling kindly. His words bring warmth to your cheeks. 

“That’s very kind of you,” you answer, grateful for the small reassurance. 

“Listen, I understand that Eddie isn’t the… easiest person to work with.” His whole body stiffens with a sympathetic wince. “I’ve known him since we were kids. Trust me, his bark is worse than his bite.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” The defense falls from your lips instinctually, ingrained in you from your days at Carver Distillery. 

Jeff is quick to reassure you, “I’ve seen you handle it all day. I wasn’t lying when I said you did a great job. Just remember that the first day is always the hardest. Hang in there, okay?” 

The two of you watch as Argyle and Eddie head in your direction, encroaching on the privacy of your conversation. With a gentle pat to your shoulder, Jeff leaves your side before making his way to the door. On his way out, you catch Jeff giving Eddie a hard stare. His eyes convey a clear message: play nice. 

“Really rad to meet you today, dudette. Catch you later!” Argyle sees you and Eddie out, offering a friendly wave as he closes the door. 

As you stand in the hallway with Eddie, you realize that this is the first moment you’ve been alone with the rockstar since meeting him. The entire night, you’ve watched him parade around the studio - soaking up the attention that his skills and antics attract. As quickly as the realization hits you, it’s replaced by shock. Eddie is making his way down the hall without so much as a glance in your direction. By the time you realize what’s going on, he’s halfway to the elevator. 

You quicken your step, heels clacking loudly against the tile as you increase your pace. Eddie enters the elevator, and hits the button for the ground level. Without hesitating, you wedge your arms between the doors to halt their closing. 

“Thought you could escape?” Your tone is light as you attempt to break the tension of being stuck with someone who clearly does not want you around. Eddie stares firmly ahead at his distorted reflection stark against those silver walls, seemingly too indifferent to look your way. 

“More like you need to learn how to keep up,” he snorts as he rolls his eyes. Perhaps it’s the exhaustion. Perhaps it’s Eddie’s endlessly mocking tone. Either way, his unfair dismissal irks you in a way that has sarcasm rising to your tongue.

 “Are you sure you can fit in this elevator with the size of that head?" You retort. With that, he turns his gaze toward you. The weight of his stare feels imposing in the small elevator, amber eyes practically molten as they dart upward and greet yours.

A smirk plays on his lips, the sight of it curling deep within your gut. "And which head are you referring to, doll?" Steve warned you this would happen, but Eddie’s audacious flirting still bewilders you. Your surprise is interrupted by the ding of the elevator signaling your arrival. Unsurprisingly, Eddie does not wait for you. You follow after him, quick behind his step having anticipated his rush. 

“You're not going to tell me how I did on my first day?"

“You survived, didn’t you?” he offers, sounding wholly bored with the question.

Undeterred, you press on, “Is there anything I could have done better today?”

“Are you always this needy?” He doesn’t even look your way, voice dripping in disdain.  His brusque tone further stokes the flames of indignation you felt spark to life in the elevator. 

“Says the man who asked me to tie his shoes,” you retort. You’re too caught up in your annoyance to notice Eddie has stopped walking. You collide with his back, feeling his hard muscles tense from the unexpected force. Slowly, Eddie turns to loom over you. Your breath catches in your throat, panic starting to build. You took things too far, and he’s going to fire you on the spot. You’re sure of it. 

To your surprise, you find mirth dancing in his eyes. A smile tugs at his lips. 

“Keep that up, and I might have to keep you,” he chuckles. With a wink in your direction, Eddie exits the building and swiftly slides into the awaiting vehicle. 

I might have to keep you.

I might have to keep you.

I might have to keep you. 

His words haunt you on your commute. They keep you company like a phantom friend on the subway. They trail beside you with every step closer to home.  

The sky awakens with hues of pink and orange, ready to welcome the sun in a new beginning. You pass strangers on the sidewalk, and you note the contrasting personalities present at this time of day. People on the still crowded streets of New York City stumble home after the last call. Runners rise to hit the pavement to chip away at their morning mileage. Twilight offers these night owls and morning birds the chance to cross paths in the painted sky, a contained ecosystem of push and pull that circles around itself with the same ease as the moon and the sun. A stark reminder that sometimes, that’s all you need for opposites to flourish together – the right circumstances. 

You stand in front of your apartment door, and you make a promise to yourself. Once you cross that threshold, you will take care of yourself. You’ve spent hours sprinting to accommodate the needs of others today. From now until your next shift, you will be unhurried in your self care. 

You savor the warmth of the shower soothing your aching muscles. You relish the softness of pajamas against your skin. You enjoy the cleansing feeling of your skincare routine.  

You run your fingers through your hair, and you stop at that cherished spot behind your right ear. You can’t see it, can’t see the swirling patterns you’ve only seen captured in pictures throughout the years, but you know it’s there. You press your fingertips to your soulmark with the gentleness owed to such a sacred gift. You briefly allow your mind to wander, to wonder if somewhere out there your soulmate does the same, gentle brushes of fingers against the mark that signifies an eternal bond with a person you haven’t met, yet feel you’ve known your whole life.

Turning to your towel rack, you gently pat your face dry of any remaining droplets of water, slipper-covered feet careful as they meander down the small hallway so as to not wake a sleeping Angela within her own bedroom. Once inside, your fingers curl gently around the golden door handle and slowly push it shut, flicking on your bedside lamp as you lower yourself down into your bed. You root around in the top bedside drawer for a familiar notebook and pen, stickers scattering onto the floor from where they’re tucked into the front page of the well-loved spine, little hearts and smiling faces, flowers that you’ve previously decorated pages with. You bend to retrieve them, clicking the top of your pen and pressing it thoughtfully against your chin once settled back on your pile of pillows. You open to a new, unadorned page. The blank sheet stares up at you, lines stark against pages, full of space for your thoughts to be written. The tip brushes the page, etching the present date into the top left corner, and you begin. 

Dear Soulmate, 

I started a new job today. It’s…definitely different. I’m working for Eddie Munson. Yeah, Eddie Munson from Corroded Coffin. He’s…well, he’s not Jason Carver, that’s for sure. He’s rough around the edges, but I don't think he’s particularly cruel. Sure, he made me run around doing errands for him, and I wasn't particularly fond of having to tie his boots, but it’s not like the blatant disrespect Jason would casually throw my way.

If anything, he’s a little confusing. And yet there’s something in him. I don’t know what it is yet, but it seems like he’s…searching for something, almost. Does that even make sense? I mean, what could he be looking for? He’s a rockstar. But there were just moments sometimes where I felt this… restlessness inside him or something. I don’t know. It makes me wonder who Eddie Munson is. Who he is really, at least. Not the Eddie Munson from all the news articles and bad publicity, or the Eddie Munson he tries to portray himself as in front of others, but the real man beneath. 

Anyway, enough about me. What was your day like? I hope it was better than mine, at least. I’m just getting home and the sun is coming up, but there’s this new excitement I feel growing. This could be really life changing. I hope one day soon I can tell you all about it. Who knows? Maybe it’ll bring me closer to you. I should probably head to bed. Not sure when I’ll be needed come tomorrow, but I’ll write to you soon and tell you everything. 

Giving the ink on the page a chance to dry, you reflect on the wild nature of your first day. It proved to be challenging, and it tested the strength of your resolve. You think back to Eddie’s simple assessment – “You survived, didn’t you?” He was right. You did survive. In fact, you might even argue that you had thrived under the watchful gaze of Eddie Munson.  

You are smart. You are capable. You are resilient.

You repeat these affirmations to yourself like a promise, as you shut the notebook and settle down to go to sleep. They’re a reminder of your inner flame, which flickered today under Eddie’s scrutiny. Yet, you know this to be true - Eddie Munson will not be the one to extinguish your light.

the next chapter will be released on @blue-mossbird​’s blog!

🌿bluey's masterlist | 🌙luna's masterlist | 💌myo's masterlist

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson rockstar au #eddie munson soulmate au #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #rockstar!eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #iwillwait

[noneorother]

The grand unified theory of Good Omens S2 hangs on - you guessed it - a double meaning (and art). *Part 3*

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l The End? This is major spoilers for season 3 territory. You have been warned. I'm also going to split this into parts because wow, I have so many ✨Clues✨! My peeps, before I show you the prestige, we need to discuss Maggie. Maggie is SO WEIRD.

Right up top we get her telling us this. Who loves something since they were a baby? Since you were a kid sure, but how can you remember loving something since you were a baby?

This one's fun. The double meaning here is 1) I was a huge uptight nerd so I never went to parties and/or 2) I wasn't a human teenager so I never got to go to your earth parties. But check out when Nina and Maggie *first* meet in her coffee shop. We spend a lot of time in this scene, because it's framed as a meet cute, but it's also full of weird dialogue.

So i'm not a writer, someone feel free to tell me I'm wrong, but Maggie is remembered by Nina AS A COFFEE. She IS a skinny latte. This works on two levels again. 1) You're not important enough to me to remember you as a person, just as an order. 2) You do not fit into my memory of people I know, but subconsciously I remember you as NOT a regular human.

And then again when she leaves the shop, Nina isn't paying attention and just sort of subconsciously replies:

Again, two meanings. Maggie is unimportant to her, Maggie is also a *coffee*.

Which is weird, because as far as I can tell Maggie never drinks a coffee, or anything for that matter. Sure she orders stuff in the shop, and is offered food and alcohol, but we never see her actually drink or eat any of it. She stirs the tea but never takes a sip.

So what IS Maggie then? Many people have pointed out that Maggie and Nina are a coffeeshop AU of our heroes. Their visual presentation seems to be screaming Nina = Crowley! and Maggie = Aziraphale! And they *work* on opposite sides of the street and everything! So is Maggie just a stand-in for Aziraphale then, to make the parable work? Cool, then what's the parable?

Uh oh. What possible AU fiction ends up with the main love interests breaking up with their toxic ex, dancing in a ball and fighting demons together and then... just not ending up together? An AU written by kind of a bad writer who wants to show the two lovebirds he's trying to separate that it will never work. Oh hey look The Metatron is here:

Now, I think the same guy that has been adding bits and pieces in the past would have no problem adding stuff and/or people in the present to make a point. Maggie also seems to be pretty sure about quite a lot of things that I wouldn't be sure about, given the context.

Maggie's knows it's not going to do any good, but she has to tell them anyway? Tell them what, that Nina and Maggie talked it out and never ended up together? Wow, what a great message. Thanks Maggie. Maggie isn't just a downer of an example though, remember she's also A COFFEE! Shoved in Aziraphael's and Crowley's faces, asking them to take it and help her since the beginning.

There's a concept in magic tricks called a force, where it seems like someone has free will ; to put a card anywhere in a deck, or pick a number, or volunteer, but actually the outcome has been chosen for them by the magician for the trick to work. The actual trick is about getting the person to think they've freely chosen to participate in the trick, not the act of revealing the card. The real trick was never making Maggie and Nina try to fall in love, it was getting Aziraphael to think he had freely chosen to help Maggie get this whole thing going. And if we know one thing about Aziraphael, it's that he's actually terrible at magic. Aziraphael has been primed to take the coffee in S2E6, because he's been taking the coffee the whole season. Ready for the prestige reveal after the force? We're going right to The Metatron in Part 4.

#good omens prime #go season 2 #go3 #good omens s3 #good omens meta #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #go meta #ineffable husbands #art director talks good omens #nina and maggie #coffeeshop au #go spoilers

[gingernut1314]

'Tis the Season

Straw Hat Crew x GN!Reader

Summary: You share your holiday celebrations with your crew aboard the Going Merry.

Warnings: fluffffffff, some (very little) mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 1.5K

A/N: Soooo I've gotten into the holiday spirit and needed to write this, so I hope you all don't mind too much! @fanaticsnail thank you for contributing to my holiday cheer with your wonderful x-mas works! (go check them out if you haven't already! Very good!!) I hope everyone has an amazing holiday or can find joy in something that brings you happiness this month!!! 🩷

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Luffy: 🍖

As soon as you tell him anything about the holiday you celebrated back on your home island, he would insist on doing it right then and there

Festive and colorful decorations? He’s stopping at the nearest island to gather supplies and doctorate the Merry to your liking

Hot chocolate and food? Yes please.

Turkey, roast beef, or ham for dinner? Why not all of it?

The food is the most important part of this new holiday, he thinks

He’s getting Sanji to whip up every delicacy you can possibly think of

Fun holiday activities? The crew will be dragged along and they will have fun

He’ll want to double--no triple check that Santa is going to visit the Merry because he sounds super cool and he wants to recruit him onto the crew 

I mean, come on! The guy loves cookies and milk and those are some of Luffy's favorite things!

…and he will be very skeptical of you telling him Santa is, unfortunately, not real 

Luffy is dead broke so he goes to Nami to beg for berry so that he can get you a gift

Nami, of course, refuses to give him a single coin and tells him to make you something

So he would spend hours making you a gift

He would hand you a drawing of him hugging the life out of you on the Merry

And you would have to have him explain to you what is happening in his creation because all you can make out is the colors red and blue and what looks to be his signature straw hat

You love it regardless and hang it on the wall next to your hammock

Luffy will want to recreate the picture of course, and you’ll be more than happy to hug your captain back

Will leave cookies and milk out for Santa (and will eventually devour what he left out) and will try (and fail) to stay up all night to see Santa

You would find him dead asleep half an hour later and would be sure to leave a few gifts under the too-large tree he had Zoro set up on the deck for him

Luffy will get that guy next year, just you wait and see

Zoro: 🗡️🥦 ⚔️

He is uninterested

None of it is his style

Too flashy and too loud

He’s good to take a nap during the festivities

You will be able to entice him to come and eat the food Sanji was kind enough to prepare

And you’ll entice him further with some spiked holiday drinks

Luffy is all over the holiday, so it won’t take much convincing to sail back to your home island for the day

And while the rest of the crew is partaking in the festivities your home village is throwing in the snow-covered street, you’ll slip away with Zoro’s hand in your own

You will tell him how this holiday isn’t just about joy, food, and festive songs, but about life and death

You showed him back to the ruins of your childhood home, which he had been in mere moments before the villain you had been helping them fight set fire to it

The scorched front lawn was covered in clumps of candles, garland wreaths, rocks, and food, just as you knew it would be

You explained that your village had done this in celebration of the life your family had lived--to remember them and keep their souls filled with joy in whatever afterlife they might have entered

He would watch you light a candle and pull a small trinket from your pocket, placing them both on the blackened steps of your home

Zoro would light a candle and place it next to yours, sitting there with you for as long as you needed

He would even wrap you up in one of his strong arms, holding you tight

Later, you would gift him a bottle of sake 

He had no clue gift-giving had anything to do with your holiday, so he would insist you share the bottle with him

He will be sure to get you a gift next year

Nami: 🍊

She would be a little on the uninterested side at first

But after watching how excited you got as you explained to the rest of the crew about the holiday you celebrated, she would warm up to it

She would even warm up enough to allow you to doctorate her tangerine trees with lights and tinsel

The lights were pretty enough, she supposed. The tinsel shiny

And she does love shiny things

Once in the holiday spirit, she would let it fully take her over

Nami would dock the Merry on the closest island and go searching for the best gift she could find you

When it came to you, she hardly thought much about how much berry she was spending

You and your joy were more important to her than a number

You had commented on needing a new pair of shoes a week ago? Bought.

Commented on wanting something so offhandedly you had forgotten the moment you stepped away? Bought and wrapped in whatever wrapping paper she could find that screamed your holiday in its bright colors

She would be very excited to watch you unwrap everything she had gotten you (which you had been very shocked at, but had been told strictly to just unwrap everything and not worry so much)

You would feel a bit embarrassed at how little you had gotten her, but she wouldn’t care because your gift was thoughtful

So thoughtful it nearly brought her to tears

After everyone else had gone to bed, she would take you back up onto the deck and hand you a cup of hot chocolate she had attempted to make (which she had done a pretty good job at creating without the help of Sanji)

The two of you would sit, snuggled up next to each other under a heavy blanket and watch the dancing, multicolored lights adorning her trees late into the night

Usopp: 🤥

Will get into it right away

He loves any excuse to celebrate, so your holiday is already perfect

Usopp is quick to make colored lights to hang up around the ship

And he’ll want to make everyone a stocking, which will be color coordinating and have some sort of special technique that didn’t need to be added in the first place

He loves all the different holiday-themed stories and songs 

Throughout the day, he’ll randomly burst into horribly off-tune song and you will be expected to join in

The traditional stories you tell him get the typical Captain Usopp spin to them

But it just makes them that much better in your opinion

They become your crew's stories, making them so special

While the crew eats and drinks holiday drinks, he’ll tell the stories and have everyone, even Zoro, entranced by their colorfulness

You made the big mistake of telling him about Krampus

And now he is utterly terrified of getting kidnapped and beaten by the goat-demon

Though he won’t say he’s scared

He'll be very admit that he isn't

But a loud stomp of the foot against the deck floor from Zoro has the poor storyteller jumping out of his skin and using you as a shield

Usopp is a very good gift-giver

Not only is it handmade, but it is also functional (for once) and it will help you out loads

You give him his gift and he bursts into tears, thanking you and hugging you profusely

Everyone will go to bed, the lights hanging up everywhere only adding to the cozy, homeyness of the Going Merry

And you’ll just be nodding off when Usopp comes crawling into your hammock, begging you with tears in his eyes to keep Krampus away from him

You’ll laugh at him at first, but end up promising to keep him safe while you hold him tight

And he’ll hold you back just as, if not more, tight

Sanji: 🧑‍🍳

Of course, Sanji gets into the holiday spirit 

It's a holiday you celebrate and one that makes you happy

And all he ever wants to do is make you happy

You’ll sheepishly bring him your family's old cookbook full of recipes passed down from generation to generation

And he’ll be more than happy to cook you whatever your heart desires

Nothing is too much in his eyes when it comes to you

He’ll insist you help him cook everything, seeing as you are the expert when it comes to these recipes

And you two will share bits and pieces of everything before it all disappears into the void that is your captain’s stomach

He will also be very interested in this mistletoe tradition

He makes it his mission to not only hang the green sprigs everywhere around the ship

But to get you under as many of them as he possibly can, for as long as he possibly can

You find yourself purposely wondering under the mistletoe and lingering there until Sanji notices and rushes over

Though Sanji wants to get you the best gift he can possibly buy, he’s not the best when it comes to gift-giving

Food and physical touch are his love language after all

So he bakes you a sweet treat you had once told him about, one you hadn’t had since your childhood

And it’s the best gift you could have ever wished for because he made it just like how you remembered it

He loves whatever you give him

It could be a stick you say reminds you of him and he would be over the moon, mounting it and hanging it up in the kitchen

Though you are sure to get him a very nice gift, one you had spent weeks thinking over so it was just right

He doesn’t need the mistletoe to show you just how much he appreciates the gift

Sanji makes you both hot chocolate and holds you tight as you two talk in the abandoned and cleaned kitchen

#straw hats #straw hat crew #holiday one piece #one piece #one piece fluff #opla #luffy #monkey d. luffy #luffy fluff #zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro fluff #nami #nami fluff #usopp #usopp fluff #sanji #sanji fluff #the going merry #luffy x gn!reader #zoro x gn!reader #nami x gn!reader #usopp x gn!reader #sanji x gn!reader

[wandanatsgf]

Date Night & Murder

Pairing: Villanelle x Reader

Word Count: 691

Summary: What a date night between two assassins looks like

“Oh come on,” you hear your girlfriend, Villanelle, say. Crimson liquid seeps out of your latest victim and onto the floor. It stains her new boots. “I just bought these.”

“I’ll buy you another pair baby,” you say, soothing her over for now. You look around the now dead man’s apartment, making sure you left no evidence.

“Oh please you owe me more than just a pair of boots. I’d like three…and maybe some drinks.”

“Fine,” you agree, not wanting to argue with the blonde woman. You double check everything before making your way to the fire escape. You climb down, making sure Villanelle is right behind you.

“Now come on, we need to go so we can change before the movie. I want to have the best seats,” Villanelle says once the two of you are on the ground.

“Of course you do. You only want the best. The best food, the best clothes, the best wine,” you ramble on, teasing her.

“I think you’re forgetting the most important one baby. I wanted the best girl and now I’ve got her.”

You can feel your heart melt for the woman.

“We’ll I can definitely say you got her and you got her forever.”

The two of you quickly walk back to your shared apartment. After quickly showering and changing, the two of you walk hand in hand out the door and towards the theater.

The walk there is rather peaceful, which surprises you considering who you're walking with.

"Ok you get the snacks and I'll get the tickets," your girlfriend says as you walk through the doors.

"Ok," you agree. You wait in line for the food and decide on a large popcorn and two soft drinks for the two of you. Just as you finish paying, your girlfriend walks up to you with the tickets in her hand. She takes the popcorn and her drink from you and hands you your ticket. You look down at your ticket and a look of confusion sets across your face.

“Oksana. You said this was going to be an action adventure movie. What about Minions: The Rise of Gru screams action?”

“Are you kidding me Y/n? Minions is full of action. And don’t act like you don’t wanna see it. I’ve seen you watching the commercials,” she retorts back.

While she’s not wrong, this isn’t the movie you were expecting to watch during date night. Not to get you wrong but being in a theater with a bunch of children doesn’t exactly scream date. But as long as you’re with V you’re happy.

The two of you walk hand in hand into the theater and take your seats, only after V not so politely asks two children to move. She really was serious about getting the best seats.

The two of you sit down just as the commercials start. You glance over at Villanelle and she is enthralled by the screen. It brings a smile to your face. After the hard life she's had, she deserves a little happiness.

The two of you munch on popcorn as you watch the screen. You laugh at the funny parts and (as ashamed as you are to admit this) you cry at the sad parts too. The movie ends all too soon as the credits start to roll and the lights turn on.

You move to stand up, but your girlfriend pulls you back down.

"That's it?" she questions.

"Yeah it's over baby."

"But I don't want it to be over," she pouts.

"We can always go see it again," you tell her.

"I guess that will work," she says. "But I want to come back and see it first thing tomorrow."

"Whatever you want baby," you say, trying to convince her to leave. She finally gets up and the two of you walk back to your shared apartment.

After you get home and into bed you look at the beautiful blonde next to you.

"What are you staring at baby?"

"You. You know I love you V, right?"

"I know baby. I love you too," she says. She pulls you closer into her and the two of you fall asleep just like that.

#killing eve #villanelle x reader #oksana astankova #oksana astankova x reader #jodie comer #jodie comer x reader #villanelle x you #killing eve fic #killing eve fanfiction #villanelle fluff

[yanknowalready]

Burning and Building Bridges

Why does my writing block go away for a character I haven’t met in an event I haven’t even played? Constructive criticism welcome as this is my first time writing something like this. I plan to write a part 2, but probably not until after EN server gets the Masquerade event

Summary: Rollo Flamm would absolutely see a mechanically minded Yuu as a sign you were meant for him. He would rid the world of magic and you would help the society rebuild and continue to function in its absence. notes: [1.6k] words, yandere content, gn reader

The festival decorations are beautiful, you think to yourself, as you wander around town with Grimm. As you open your mouth to suggest stopping by a food cart, you hear a crash from around the corner. The two of you glance at each other and nod before running over to check it out.

“Is everyone okay?” you ask as you round the corner to see the damage.

Thankfully, no one appears to be hurt. You see a shopkeeper standing a few feet outside of her storefront looking with distress at half of her store’s sign dangling from one of its hooks. In front of the shop keeper, there is some concrete debris, the other half of the store’s sign, a smashed flowerpot, and open window a couple floors up. These last two were likely responsible for the damage. What you don't see is the man in the window above, who also looked to inspect the cause of the noise.

"Worry not, citizen, the great mage Grimm and my henchman are here to help!"

You take a moment to assess the damage. “I think this is beyond what our classes have covered. Are you sure you can repair that?”

“Er, well, no...” Grimm looks down sheepishly, as he shakes his head

* “Typical fools, so blinded by the plague of magic that penetrates this world they don't even see how their reliance on it weakens them and those around them." Rollo thinks to himself, letting out a scoff and starting to turn away. He had more important things to do than watch reliance on corruption grow. Plans rarely sorted themselves out, after all, and his were too important to leave to chance. *

The shop keeper looks up as you approach the scene. “Oh, that uniform! You’re an NRC Student, right? I don’t suppose you would mind using your magic to help me fix this up?”

"Oh, I can't actually do magic," You say holding your hands up defensively. "but I still think I can fix it, at least, well enough that it won’t get worse before a mage can come fix it properly.”

After taking a minute to assess the damage and materials available, you determine that nothing around is sturdy enough to climb on to lift it. Among the wreckage is a string of flags that also got knocked down. You pick it up, and give it a tug, frown, fold it in half and tug again. That’ll do. You tie one end of the doubled up string to the fallen sign, remove your belt, and affix it to the other end, giving it some weight so you can actually aim. You toss that end over a sturdy looking pipe to make a simple pulley and pull it back up onto the other hook, then repeat the process with a piece of wood to support the broken halves in the middle.

* The pipe you chose happened to be outside the window Rollo was walking by, prompting him to look out again to see what startled him. As if spreading their curse to those born without the impurity wasn't bad enough, must they cause a ruckus that disturbs everyone else? He glanced with distress out the window to see what you had done to startle him, and found himself yet more startled to see that you were managing to help the townsfolk almost entirely WITHOUT magic, having asked Grimm for just enough assistance to let him feel like he was helping. *

The shopkeeper brings the two of you refreshments as you finished up in thanks for your help.

That evening as you return to the accommodations Noble Bell set up for the NRC visitors, you find your way blocked by a local student with a particularly unfriendly expression. You stop, hoping that for once in your time at Twisted Wonderland it wasn't because of some trouble. "Pardon the interruption. I wish to commend you for your actions earlier today.  That was quite admirable how you helped that vendor. I must say, it is refreshing to see people who remain competent when their magic fails them." Rollo said.

"I helped too, ya know!" Grimm chimed in, earning only a brief downwards glance from Rollo, as if he was irritated to be reminded of the creature's presence.

"Ah yes, whatever would I do without you?" You say in a playful tone, giving Grimm a pat on the head. Turning back to the man in front of you, you reply, "it was no trouble, really." Then, more to yourself, you add, "it's nice to put the stuff I learned to use."

Rollo was taken aback at that. "I did not realize Night Raven College offered non magical classes."

"Oh, no, not Night Raven, the school I went to before..." the school in the same world as your family and friends that you doubt Crowley is actually still trying to help you get back to. You let out a sigh.

"I should very much like to hear about this school if you have the time."

Huh, this man doesn’t seem nearly as unpleasant as he looked.

"Nyehhh, sounds boring if you ask me." Grimm yawns. "I'm gonna hit the hay. Have fun talking to the only person who’d be impressed you can’t use magic."

Rollo raises an eyebrow, watching for only a moment as Grimm left, before returning his gaze to you. Perhaps it was the light, but his eyes seemed brighter. "You don't use magic, yet you are attending a school for mages? That is a rather peculiar circumstance."

"Hah, well, peculiar might be an understatement." Rollo gave a look which prompted you to continue. "It's a long story, but the gist of it is that Grimm and I count as one student, which gives him a chance to study magic and gives me a place to stay until I can find a way back to my magic-less world."

“Peculiar indeed. You say your world is free of magic? That sounds-” he pauses, pulling out his handkerchief. “Ahem, that sounds like it would make life rather difficult.”

“Hah, you know, I definitely thought magic would make things easier when I first got here, but the classes Grimm and I have been taking hardly seem any easier than my engineering classes back home...” Your laugh turns into more of a grimace as you think back to the last test you had with Professor Trein. Being from another world certainly put you at a disadvantage for History class. “Oh, in case that’s not a thing here, engineering is the science of studying how to design and build things, just with technology and materials instead of magic. It’s what I was studying.”

Rollo continues to ask questions, very clearly fascinated, so you indulge him in the conversation. The two of you continue chatting about your world and your studies until the clock chimes.

“Oh wow, it’s gotten late!” The reminder of the time seemed to be an invitation for all the tiredness of the day to catch up with you. “I’m going to head in for the night. I imagine you’ve got things you need to do tomorrow as well.”

“Indeed,” He glowers at the clock.

You get up and start to walk to the guest rooms for NRC students before turning back to Rollo. “It was nice talking with you. See you... probably tomorrow, yeah?” You give a smile and a wave, then take your leave, wondering if Grimm had fallen asleep already.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* Rollo let his hand linger in the air a little longer even after you turned to leave. He would have liked to continue listening to you talk, even on things unrelated to what would help with his plans. You had a lovely voice and were so friendly towards him. But you were right, he shook his head, he DID have things he needed to get done. He made his way back to his own room, surprising a few students he passed with the uncharacteristic smile on his face.

It was perfect, YOU were perfect. A world without magic, and a person from that world who can help Twisted Wonderland rebuild once he purge it of magic. Though he supposed that would mean there would be no way for you to return to your home, nor would there be a reason for NRC to remain open, which would leave you doubly without a place to stay. Rollo would not stand for that, not when you were going to help him save the world from magic. He decided in that moment he would look after you and ensure you had a safe place to stay, here in the city of flowers, after this was all over. It was the least he could do for the assistance you would provide to their soon to be magic free society. But wait! What if "after” is too late? You have displayed no fear for magic, despite being surrounded by so many who use it so flippantly and having none of your own to protect yourself with. What if... what if something happened to you before he could purge magic from the world? No, he couldn't bare to lose someone else to magic. In the morning, he will have to ensure you are separated from that monster cat you spend your time with. Content with his plan, Rollo begins to drift off to sleep... Only for his eyes to burst open at the realization. That cat monster! You are staying in the same room, and given the accommodations were per student, likely even the same bed! His mind filled with all sorts of scenarios of magical disasters that could happen between now and the morning. For all he knew, you could have been hurt already. He anxiously flips through the paperwork on the NRC students visiting, searching for the room you were assigned to. His eyes light with fire. This could not wait until morning, he would have to save you now, even if it took you a while to see that was what he was doing. *

#yandere x reader #male yandere #twisted wonderland #Rollo Flamm #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #original content

[winterisholding]

Diluc x Gn!Reader - Proposal

Diluc wrung his hands nervously, he had been planning this night for months now just to make it perfect. He would be a massive lier if he said his nerves weren't completely through the roof. He stood just outside of Angel's Share, awaiting your arrival. He had left you a beautiful letter and rose by your shared bedside in the morning for you to wake up to, inviting you to meet him there so he may escort you on a date. You were excited, to say the least, when he had requested you dress nicely. Diluc was a very busy man after all, and while he loved you dearly he did not often have time to do such extravagant events with you.

Double checking yourself in the mirror, you made your way to the tavern, a blush blooming across your cheeks as you met his gaze. He was dressed in a fine tux, his hair pulled back into a high ponytail. He looked handsome, and it made your heart flutter in your chest. As you stepped forward, he met you halfway, taking your hands into his and pulling you into a kiss. You melted into his embrace, smiling as you resting your forehead against his. Diluc chuckled softly under his breath, the sound sending pleasant shivers up your spine “You look absolutely gorgeous.” He finally spoke, cupping your cheek in his gloved hand. Leaning into his touch you giggle “I can say the same for you, Diluc.” You steal another peck from his lips.

Diluc indulges you, as he always had. How could he not? Not when he was so smitten with you. The red haired man gently tugged your hand, pulling away to start leading you. You entwine your fingers with his, walking side by side through the quieting streets of the city. Down the stairs and over the bride, he guides you in comfortable silence. Just being able to enjoy each other's company was more than enough for the both of you. Walking along to path and up into the mountains, he sits you down on a blanket after revealing a hidden picnic basket. As you both get settled, you rest your head against his shoulder “This is wonderful, Diluc. Thank you for this, truly. It almost makes me wonder if I missed an anniversary or something.” You chuckled.

Diluc shook his head with a soft, amused smile “No, nothing like that, my dear. I just… wanted to do something nice and spend time with you is all. I love you, so very much.” He speaks as he kisses the top of your head. You close your eyes in domestic bliss “It means a lot to me. I know you're really busy and important, but that just makes what time we get together that much better right?” You grin up at him, hugging his arm now. He chuckles at your antics and gives you a fleeting kiss “Yes, for sure.” He takes his time, pampering and feeding you parts of the meal he had prepared while you did the same for him.

Once the food had all been eaten, and the sun had begun to set; you two remained side by side, looking out over the horizon. His arm was wrapped around your waist, your head on his shoulder and body pressed against his to cuddle. He laid his head atop of your own, just holding you close to him. As you looked up, you pointed towards the sky “Diluc, look! You can already see some of the stars!” You smile. Diluc gazes up towards the sky, confirming your observation “Ah, I see. I hadn't realized we were out here for so long.” He frowned, his nerves suddenly picking up all over again.

While the average acquaintance, or even some friends wouldn't have noticed the shift in the usually stoic man, it caught your attention almost instantly “Oh Diluc, it's alright I'm sure we still have time to get home and be ready for bed by the time it is for us to sleep and be fully rested.” You try to reassure him “And even if not, I really enjoyed today regardless. It's nice to get you all to myself for a while.” You joke lightly, hoping to ease whatever has him so concerned. Diluc smiles to you, taking a shaking deep breath ”No it's nothing like that I just… I love you so very much you know that right? You are my world, the spark which starts my flame, my heart.” He takes your hands into his own “You have brought so much good into my life. I never thought I would ever meet someone like you, I didn't believe I deserved it. That day when you stumbled into the winery soaked in rain and mud, was the day I was blessed by the gods. You mean everything to me, that's why I prepared this dinner and brought you here.” You feel your eyes becoming misty from the tears beginning to form, and before you reply he shifts to one knee. Briefly letting go of your hands to fumble with his pocket and retrieve a red velvet box, he presents it to you. A beautiful garnet and diamond ring stares back at you as shock consumes your person “(Y/N)... Will you make the happiest man in Mondstadt and marry me?”

#diluc x reader #genshin reader insert #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #I struggled so much with this one I swear #author-kun is dying #writers block sucks

[jesslovesboats]

Hi Jess, I have a Karluk question for you! What exactly was wrong with the expedition's supply of pemmican? Wikipedia says Stefansson said it was a lack of fat, but Niven's book describes the disease as coming from too much fat and protein. Are there any clear answers as to what actually made it faulty?

Hi! This is a great question, and I wanted to do a little research before I responded to make sure I got the details right.

First, what exactly is pemmican? It's one of the staple foods of polar exploration, a nutritionally balanced combination of dried meat, fat, and sometimes a small amount of carbohydrates. It's easy to transport, calorie dense, can be formulated to feed men or dogs, and doesn't spoil easily, making it ideal for long voyages. Indigenous peoples were making and using pemmican for centuries before the Europeans "discovered" it.

With this in mind, I looked at the two competing claims you mentioned. First, I found the citation in the Wikipedia article, and since I have Stef's (ridiculous) book The Friendly Arctic, I double checked it. The quote is accurate, but there's some missing context. In this passage, he was actually talking about pemmican that was specifically formulated for dogs! There was dog pemmican and man pemmican (and confusingly enough, the Karluk also had 2 different kinds of man pemmican-- more on that later). In the passage below you can see that Stef is complaining about the dog pemmican being deficient in fat, and how he claims it affected dog performance.

(In general, though, it's important to note that Stef had a... tenuous relationship with the truth. I would fact check anything he said as a matter of principle.)

To examine Niven's claim, I called in the big guns, by which I mean I consulted with an actual expert with their Ph.D. in all things polar and a special interest in Stef's shenanigans! They are on tumblr, but I'm not sure if they're OK being tagged, so I will just thank them anonymously for their help 🥰 Anyway, between the two of us, we were unable to find any studies specifically examining the relationship between pemmican (faulty or otherwise) and nephritis, a kidney disease diagnosed by the doctor who examined the Karluk survivors. To the best of our knowledge, no testing was ever done on the bodies of the deceased, but since the symptoms of the survivors lined up with the symptoms of nephritis, there's no compelling reason to doubt this diagnosis.

So how do we know the pemmican caused the nephritis? Officially, we don't! However, we have a LOT of evidence indicating that it did. Niven does a great job documenting all of this in The Ice Master. We know that people have been surviving on pemmican in the Arctic for centuries without developing nephritis. We know that in order to be a nutritionally balanced survival food, pemmican needs to have a specific ratio of protein to fat. We know that Stef did not personally oversee the production of his pemmican, as some previous expedition leaders had done (which is especially hilarious considering that later in his career he would conduct some disastrous experiments involving feeding pemmican to United States troops, so clearly he had an interest in the stuff). We know he did not submit it to purity testing to ensure that it was safe and nutritionally balanced because he was in too much of a hurry. We know that the men strongly preferred the Hudson's Bay brand of pemmican over the Underwood brand because the Underwood brand made them ill, and they reached a point where they couldn't choke down any more of it, even though they were starving. We know that high fat and/or protein diets without carbohydrates can be very bad for your kidneys, especially if you have other preexisting medical conditions (like, for example, a weakened immune system due to exposure and starvation and stress).

I am not a doctor and I do not play one on the Internet, but if I had to guess, I would say there was a problem with the Underwood pemmican, most likely that the fat to protein ratio was off or it was somehow contaminated. This is also the conclusion that Niven reached, and her research for this book was impeccable, so I have no reason to doubt her! We will, of course, never know with complete certainty what caused the nephritis, but the men clearly thought it was the pemmican, and I believe them.

I'm sure this is WAY more than you ever wanted to know about pemmican, but if you want to know more, I can hook you up with some more sources! If you're interested in polar foods in general, check out Hoosh by Jason C. Anthony, which focuses specifically on Antarctica, but there's definitely some overlap with the Arctic! And I hope this helps!

#ask jesslovesboats #polar exploration #karluk

[powderedspells]

✨🔮There's So Many Spell Materials Right in Your Kitchen 💐🍓

🍓You don’t need to immediately jump right up to your local botanica, spiritual shop, or even digital marketplace in order to find ingredients for your spells. A lot of the time, if you’re not able to go outside to forage, you can open up your own pantry and find PLENTY of items for whatever kind of spell work you’re doing. Protection, love, money, cursing….you can find ingredients for anything you want to do in your spice cabinets, in your fridge, in your pantry!

🌷Things like cinnamon and coffee can be used to add speed or quickness in your work.

🌷Cinnamon is also great for protective work because of it's firey hot nature as well. You can use the whole bark or the powder in different ways. Do what works for you and what your spirits or traditions or ancestors suggest.

🌷Cinnamon is ALSO good for money work too! I fucking love cinnamon. It goes SO good with other things like allspice and nutmeg too for money.

🌷 Coffee in general is an ingredient I like to use in my m

🌷 Lemongrass used in tea can be very helpful for calming anxiety. Lemongrass can also be used for cleansings and breaking blocks.

🌷Cornstarch can be used as a base for all of your spiritual powders if you wish!

🌷Cloves are good for domination.

🌷Black pepper is protective, and is very useful in reversals/return to sender work.

🌷Flor de Jamaica/Hibiscus flower is really good for love/beauty work, especially passionate ones. It has a lot of vitamin c as well!

🌷Mint is so good for money work! I love sweet mint the most for this. It’s also good to drink as a tea for when you’re having stomach problems like tummy aches and gas. It’s very easy to grow fresh as well, and can be found for pretty cheap at grocery stores (pssst….if you have SNAP/EBT, you can find mint plants/hierba dulce in supermarkets and they’re SNAP eligible!)

🌷 Apples have also been associated with things like beauty and love, depending on who you’re talking to. The seeds would be very useful in love but alternatively dominating work, depending on what you’re going for. Just be careful!

🌷Onion & garlic skins can always be used for cleansing and protection (garlic for this) purposes in your space and home too

🌷Eggs can be used for offerings (but as always, double check that whoever will accept them!). they can also be used for cleansings as well, and are also used for protection.

🌷Dont forget the egg shells are useful for protection too! And you can use the eggshells as well to create calcium water for your plants, or crushed up so slugs cannot access your plants.

🌷White rum is so good for cleaning as well, so is white vinegar, but for the vinegar I personally think it's especially important to do something to bring sweetness and good things back into your space

🌷 You can literally use any of your kitchen oils to make your own conjure oils -- it doesn't matter if it's vegetable or jojoba or canola or soy or olive (although I PERSONALLY prefer to use olive as base for my money oils & work, as well as my protective work)

🌷Oregano is also good for money, for protection, for situations with court and the law

🌷Orange peels are great for happiness and money! They're also cleansing, so they're great for floor washes. You can boil them if you want to for washes and for a nice scent to the home. You can dry them to use in happiness or money powders or mixes (you can keep the peels whole or turn the dried peels into powder with a mortar and pestle, food processor, or by hand)

🌷 Lemon and limes can be used as strong spiritual cleansers too. I like to boil them and use the water for washes. They can also be used for other workings, especially when you need people to leave you alone and get away from you. You can prep them the same way you would do the orange peels!

🌷 Oats are good for your skin, especially if you have irritation, but are also really good offerings and has been associated with wealth as well.

Make sure at the end of the day you’re talking to your spirits, your ancestors, your intuition, and listen to what they tell you! They’ll always give you the best results, it’s never good to just do whatever the books tell you.

#witchblr #brujeria #espiritismo #hoodoo #afrowitch #black witch #witchcraft #spiritual work #spell ingredients #rootwork

[maybeimamuppet]

picking teams- chapter 14: cady

hello everyone!! boo surprise sunday post!! because!! TODAY IS MY THIRD WRITING BIRTHDAY WOOOOOO!

today three years ago i posted my first ever oneshot (i think technically it was on the 4 bc it was late at night but the intention was to be today so i’m sticking with the 3). i can honestly say i was expecting NOBODY to read anything of mine and that this would be something i did for maybe a few months and then dropped like all my other hobbies.

and here we are three years later! so i’d just like to say a huge thank you to everyone who’s supported me through this little journey over the last three years. i feel like i really have a community and a little family here. i appreciate every single pair of eyeballs that has ever laid eyes on a fic of mine, whether you comment and i get to know who you are or you’re just a lurker. whether you’re new or you’ve been here the whole time. thank you from the bottom of my heart for being here for and with me <3

anyhoo! mushy stuff over for now lol please enjoy this chapter :)

tw for

broken bones

and as always if i missed something please let me know so i can add it in!

——————

Cady goes back to school that Wednesday.

Her parents let her have one more day off to recover and finish the homework she had been putting off. Cady's still not feeling 100% after her episode, as Janis put it, but she can't afford to miss any more school. Or cheer practice. She's gotten more than a few threatening texts from Regina.

She runs into Janis briefly going into homeroom, since it's in the same classroom as Janis' first period. She smiles, mostly at the ground, and Janis surreptitiously brushes her hand against Cady's and gently links their fingers together before walking off like nothing happened.

Cady blushes furiously and heads to her seat. She hunches in on herself to scribble something on a piece of notebook paper she rips off and folds up. She's so focused on making sure nobody sees what she's writing that she almost misses Ms. Norbury trying to take attendance.

"Cady. Caaaady. Heron. Hello."

"Wh- oh, uh, here," she stutters. Ms. Norbury arches an eyebrow and ticks her off on her computer. Cady trills her lips and tucks the paper into her pocket.

"Glad to have you back, Cady," she says once the bell rings.

"Thanks! Uh, see you this afternoon!" Cady says, rushing out the door. They already don't have much time to get from class to class, and she has a stop to make this time.

She tries to act like she's just leaning casually against the wall and she doesn't have to be across the building in two minutes. Once she looks around to double check nobody is watching, she carefully slips the note between the slats in Janis' locker and rushes off to her class.

Hopefully she gets it.

—-

Cady looks up from her phone in fright when she hears a murmured, "Hey, sweet thing."

Janis is peeking around the corner of the bleachers, lunch in hand and a confused look on her face. Cady spotted this during a rainy-day indoor practice last week. The bleachers are completely solid, so nobody can see in. "Did anyone follow you? See you?"

"Nobody important," Janis shrugs as she puts her food down. "Whatcha doing?"

Cady sighs in relief upon hearing confirmation that nobody will see them together. She leans in for a kiss and gets a sweet little peck. "I want to have lunch with you! It's like our own little place!"

"That it is," Janis agrees with a chuckle. "How's your day been?"

"Good! I got a hundred on my math test," Cady says happily.

"Of course you did," Janis laughs. "What'd you tell Regina?"

"About what?"

"Where you are," Janis says as she takes a bite of her... probably turkey sandwich. Cady's eyes widen. Shit.

"I... didn't tell her anything," she says quietly.

Janis quirks an eyebrow. "Better come up with something quick."

"Why?"

"She's gonna grill you like a war interrogator," Janis snorts.

Shit. She's right. "Uh... um..."

"Just tell her you skipped lunch," Janis shrugs.

"Skipped it?" Cady asks.

Janis shrugs again. "I dunno. That'd probably work."

"I'll think of something," Cady hums, pursing her lips and taking an exasperated bite out of her celery stick. Janis smiles at her like she's some cute little animal.

"So... any particular reason you're slipping notes into my locker and sneaking around with me behind the bleachers?" Janis says with a smirk as she scoots a little closer to Cady.

Cady groans as she's suddenly reminded why she had done this. "I have to go to Regina's after school. We're having a costume fitting for the holiday parade."

Janis looks at her oddly. "You're in the parade?"

Cady nods eagerly. "Mmhmm! I get to be an acro elf!"

"A what?" Janis giggles.

"I get to dress as an elf and do tumbling and acrobatic stuff next to Santa's float!"

"Oh," Janis says. "Stevie loves that one. I didn't know it was us."

"They choose the best cheer team in the region to do it. Apparently this is the first time in, like, ten years that it's been North Shore," Cady explains.

Janis snorts. "That makes more sense."

"I'm really excited. But I have to spend a lot of time with the Plastics, I won't have as much time free after school," Cady says apologetically.

Janis shrugs. "It's just a parade. Once it's done your schedule will calm down a bit and we can spend more time together again. Not like we're breaking up."

Cady giggles. "I still have my knight in shining armor to come save me from the Plastics if I beckon her."

"Damn right you do," Janis smirks, leaning in for a kiss.

Cady happily leans in too, smiling to herself as their lips touch. She's suddenly very glad she totally ate it at their last practice and spied this hideout behind the bleachers from the ground.

"Might need to save you already," Janis hums as they pull apart, looking Cady up and down with a small grimace.

Cady sheepishly looks down at her bright pink crop top she'd decided to wear today. She tugs at her collar, suddenly self-conscious. "You don't like it?"

"No, no, you look cute," Janis says. Something in her tone tells Cady it's a half-truth at best. Oh well.

“Thanks," she says. Janis takes another bite of her sandwich and sprawls on the hard floor of the gym with her head on Cady's lap.

"Oh, get this- my math class this morning," she says. Cady tunes out almost immediately, stroking some stray hairs away from Janis' forehead and just watching her mouth move. It's probably nothing important. God, she's gorgeous.

What is she going to tell Regina?

I got sick- ew, no.

I had to talk to a teacher- too easy to mess up if she comes from the wrong direction. They'd get suspicious too easily.

I- oh, fuck it, I'll think of something.

She continues munching on her lunch and half-listening to Janis speak. Janis doesn't seem to notice or care one way or the other. Cady smiles and pulls out her phone to check her messages. She thinks of something then.

"And then-"

"Have you... told anyone about us?"

Janis pauses mid-sentence. "No."

"Not even Damian?" Cady asks shyly.

Janis shakes her head. "I kinda still don't believe it myself. I wanted to keep it to myself for a while."

"You don't wanna tell people?" Cady asks with a frown.

"No! No, I do. Some people," Janis says. "I just wanted it to stay between us for a little bit. And I figured I should check with you before I told anyone. But I'd be fine telling a few people now."

"Oh," Cady says.

"Do you want to?" Janis asks, sitting up and brushing her hair out of her face. Cady thinks for a moment before she nods.

"We should probably tell Damian, at least. He'll find out sooner or later anyway."

Janis sighs. "True."

"You don't want to?"

"No, I'm just preparing myself," Janis says, looking at Cady out of the corner of her eye with a small grin. "Might as well get it over with, I guess. C'mere."

Cady frowns in confusion and scoots closer. Janis pulls out her phone, opens the camera, and leans in. Cady catches on and gently rests a hand on Janis' cheek, smiling into a sweet kiss. She can feel Janis smiling too as she hears the camera shutter snap and they break apart. Janis sneaks a quick peck to Cady's nose, making her blink in shock and giggle quietly.

Janis opens her text conversation with Damian and types out a message. Cady hugs her arm and leans in over her shoulder to read it.

snarkisian: hey babe

cupboard: whaaaaaat do you want

snarkisian: Sent a photo: things have developed

Janis' phone starts ringing almost immediately. Janis frowns at it as Damian's contact photo fills the screen and it buzzes in her hand, but she hits the green button and the speaker so they can both hear.

As soon as she does, a piercing shriek rings out from the speakers. It's loud enough that Cady practically feels her brain dislodge and start rattling around in her head. She thinks she might've heard him all the way from the cafeteria, too.

As soon as that happens, he hangs up. Janis and Cady both blink at the screen for a moment before bursting into hysterical laughter.

"I don't know what I was expecting," Janis sighs affectionately as she slips her phone back into her pocket. Cady feels her own buzz against her leg and pulls it out to see several incoming texts from Damian that mainly consist of ABSKEOWIWHWJWJABDHWOWOA.

She clocks the time, then, and jumps. "Oh, shit!"

Janis startles. "What?"

"I have to go, lunch is almost over," Cady says, frantically packing up her things. "Bye babe. See you later."

Janis blinks in surprise, but returns the quick kiss Cady gives her before Cady goes rushing off. She has to find Regina before the bell rings. Not that Regina has ever felt much urge to listen to the bell.

She tries to think of an excuse as she hurries through the halls towards the cafeteria. Nothing really comes to her. She skids to a halt next to some sort of booth when she sees Regina and Aaron standing close to it.

"Hey!" she greets brightly after smoothing down her hair and adjusting her shirt. They both look at her. Aaron quirks his head when he sees what she's wearing, but he gets a faint smile.

Regina checks her nails and says, "Hey. Where have you been?"

"Oh, um..." Cady says. Shit. She wracks her brain trying to think of something. What did Janis say? "I skipped lunch."

Regina cocks an eyebrow. "Why?"

Cady smiles as she puts the pieces together. "I'm... trying to lose weight. So I look more like you guys. I just had one of these diet bars."

"Diet bars?" Regina questions. "Let me see."

Cady happily hands over the whole box of Kälteens. Regina holds it between her hands to try to read. Aaron peeks over her shoulder to try to see too.

"It's all in Norwegian or something," Regina says, looking at Cady in confusion.

"Swedish," Cady corrects before she can stop herself. "There's... um... this ingredient in them that you can't get here yet. My mom used to use them to lose weight in Kenya."

"Hm," Regina nods. "Can I keep these?"

"Sure!" Cady says brightly. She has a feeling Regina would've kept them even if she said no. Works for me.

"Now, are you getting me my candy cane?" Regina hums. Cady frowns in confusion before she realizes she's talking to Aaron.

"What happened to losing weight, those things are pure sugar," Aaron chuckles. Regina brushes his hair off his forehead and runs her fingers through it so it stays out of his face.

"But it's such a nice thing to do for your girlfriend," she pouts. "And stop pulling your hair down, you look so hot with it pushed back. Don't you think so, Cady?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, way hotter," Cady says. Two months ago that would've made Cady want to go for the jugular. Now? She couldn't care less.

Aaron sighs and begrudgingly leaves his hair the way Regina sort of styled it. "Alright, move over, since you so desperately need this candy cane."

He leans over the booth selling them to fill out one of the paper slips that'll eventually get tied to a candy cane and passed out in class. Cady giggles into her hand when she realizes Damian is the one in the budget Santa Claus costume behind the booth.

"Cady, remember, student parking lot after school," Regina says as she laces her pink-taloned fingers through Aaron's and leads him off to... wherever they're going. Most definitely not class.

"Got it! Bye," she says. She can feel her face relax as soon as they're turned around and can't see her anymore. Cady goes to the booth and leans across it. "Hi Dame."

"Ho ho ho, happy holidays! Would you like a candy cane?" 'Santa' replies. Cady laughs again.

"Hey, does Regina ever send any of these things?" she asks.

"Nah, she only gets them," Damian replies in his normal voice. "You want any?"

"One please," Cady replies, taking a pen with a smirk on her face.

—————

Cady sighs a little to herself as she follows Regina and the others into her house. Gretchen and Karen chat with Regina's mom. Regina huffs and rolls her eyes, straight off to her bedroom. Cady says a quick and polite hello and takes a handful of the offered snacks. She nibbles on the sunflower seeds while she mulls over what to do next.

Regina took the bars. As long as nobody recognizes them, she should be in the clear there. How can she make them work faster? Kälteens do work quickly, but Cady wants results as soon as possible. For Janis.

What makes you gain weight quickly? Cholesterol, but Cady doesn't want to do anything permanent. This is just to teach Regina a lesson, then she can lose the weight again. Sugar? Yeah. Carbs.

Cady smiles to herself as she puts a plan in place.

"Alright, you girls go find Regina. You'll do great," Mrs. George says after however long. Cady jumps when she remembers where she is.

"Thank you, Mrs. George," she calls as she goes running after Gretchen and Karen up to Regina's room.

"You're welcome!" the woman calls after them.

Regina tosses a hanger at her as soon as Cady walks into the room. "Here. I know, the costumes are fugly."

"I think they're kinda cute," Cady says, holding the outfit out so she can see it all.

"The hat has fucking jingle bells on the top, Cady," Regina huffs, handing Cady hers. She shakes it a little bit, and sure enough, there's a quiet jingling. "Go make sure it fits, but we really just need to work on making sure the hat doesn't hit the ground or fall off while you tumble."

"Okay," Cady says. Gretchen and Karen just changed in front of each other, but Cady sneaks off to the en-suite and locks the door behind her. She looks at herself in the mirror and takes a deep breath.

Janis was right, I do look Plastic, she thinks. Cute, though. Her loss.

She carefully takes off her clothes and tugs on the red-and-white striped tights. She has to jump to get the super stretchy material all the way up, but she manages with only one faceplant. Then comes the green dress, with gold buttons down the bodice, short sleeves with puffed shoulders, a belt at her waist, and red and gold trim around the hem with a collar to match.

It's not a great fit. Hesitantly, she unlocks the door and steps back into Regina's room with an, "Um."

Regina looks at her and laughs. "I kinda thought that would happen, these costumes are all huge. I swear they think we're all fat cows or something. My mom will tailor it for you."

Cady looks down at the very strangely fitting dress. There's a lot of space in between her belly and the dress, and not a lot in between it and her boobs. The skirt hits about mid-thigh, which is entirely too long, if Gretchen and Karen's are anything to go by. The sleeves are both uncomfortably tight in her armpits and loose everywhere else.

Other than that, it's great. At least the tights fit.

"Go change again, she'll get your measurements before you leave."

Cady nods and slips gratefully back into the restroom. She snaps a quick picture before she changes and sends it to Janis.

She's stuck with the dress over her head when she hears her phone go off, presumably with Janis' answer. She wriggles more in a ditch attempt to free herself, which gets her nowhere even faster.

Eventually, she escapes, heaving for breath and her hair all frizzy. She peels off the tights and puts on her non-elf clothes. Regina takes the hanger as she passes her on her way into her bathroom while Cady is occupied checking her phone.

jayjay: cutie

cadygirl: You like it?

jayjay: ofc i do

jayjay: my dorky little elf

cadygirl: Hey!

jayjay: do u get ears and shit

cadygirl: Yeah

cadygirl: Regina's really mad about it

jayjay: holy shit that's amazing

jayjay: reginald in elf ears

cadygirl: I don't get it I think they're cute

jayjay: i think ur cute

"Who are you texting?" Karen asks. Cady leaps a solid foot in the air as she materializes over her shoulder. "Not enough emojis."

"Um..." Cady stutters. Her immediate instinct was to blush and press her phone to her chest so they can't see. Now Gretchen and Karen are both looking at her suspiciously. "Uh... my... g- boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?!" Gretchen squeals sharply. "You can't get a boyfriend without telling us!"

"I can't?"

"Not without your best friends' approval! You wouldn't buy a skirt without asking your friends if it looks good on you," Gretchen hums.

"I wouldn't?" Cady replies in confusion.

"Exactly!"

Cady just blinks.

"So who is it?" Karen asks eagerly.

"Oh, you don't know him," Cady says immediately. Because it's not a him. It's not technically a lie. Right?

"He's not, like, thirty, right?" Gretchen asks in concern, the furrow in her brow deepening the longer Cady goes without answering.

"No! No, ew," Cady replies with a grimace. "Uh... he... goes to another school."

"Which one?"

"Um... do you remember that school we played right before Thanksgiving break? The away game when we stayed at the hotel?"

"Roosevelt?" Gretchen asks. Sure.

"Yeah. He goes there," Cady replies. "His name is... Jasin. With... an I."

"Ooh, unique!" Gretchen coos. "Is he cute? You have to introduce us soon!"

"Well, I don't think he's... everyone's type, but I think he's cute," Cady replies sheepishly.

"Aww, you're blushing!" Karen says. Cady blushes harder.

"Shut up," she scoffs. Karen's face falls. "No, wait, I didn't mean it like that-"

"It's okay," Karen says quietly.

"I'm really sorry, Kare," Cady says. Karen gives her a look Cady can't read. Not that Karen is ever easy to read.

"Don't worry about it."

Cady gently squeezes her arm. Karen smiles faintly at her.

"Do you have pictures of him?" Gretchen asks eagerly.

"No," Cady says immediately. "Uh... he's really shy, we don't, like, send pictures of ourselves much. We just like to see each other in person and text and stuff."

"Aww," they both coo. Gretchen continues, "Well, get one soon! We gotta make sure he's hot enough for you."

"I'll try," Cady giggles. "Oh, could we like... not tell Regina right away? It's all new, still, I don't want her to freak out about our image if we break up or whatever. We've only been together for, like, two weeks."

"Our lips are sealed," Gretchen replies immediately.

"But I'm not using SuperGlue as Chapstick again," Karen adds.

"No, that's okay, K, don't do that," Cady says immediately. "Thanks guys."

"Alright sluts, put on these... eugh. I can't even call them hats," Regina says as she parades back into the room. She chucks one at each of them rather aggressively. Cady's ends up hitting her full force in the face when she's too slow to react.

Regina watches as the three of them carefully push all her very expensive furniture out of the way so they have enough room to flip without fear of crashing into anything. Cady asks why they're not just practicing outside, and Regina goes on a solid ten minute rant about being seen in those costumes more than they have to. Cady doesn't speak for the rest of the evening.

—————

"Did Regina's boobs get bigger?" Cady hears the boy behind her in chemistry class ask about two weeks later, apparently as a conversation opener with his equally-jock-douchebag lab partner.

"Dude, totally," jock-douchebag replies. "Aaron's a lucky guy."

"Isn't she still dogging Shane?" bro number one asks. Cady tries to hide a shudder at the mention of his name.

Bro the second shrugs. "Probably."

Dammit, we made her hotter, Cady huffs to herself as she slides her goggles down over her eyes and turns on the bunsen burner. She looks over and sees Janis with a similarly disgruntled look on her face.

She gestures subtly for Cady to focus. Cady snaps back into the real world, this time before she can set herself on fire. She risks one glance back and sees Janis chuckle to herself, biting her lips to stop before anyone can see and ask what she's laughing about. Cady smiles to herself and buckles down to set some Doritos on fire. Not myself, thank you very much.

—————

Cady is laser focused in calculus another two weeks later. Not on calculus, but... she's there, it's fine.

She jumps and bangs her knee against her desk when Santa Claus slams the door open with a bellowed, "HHHHHOOOOO!"

"Jesus Christ," Ms. Norbury sighs, picking up her shattered chalk bits after she dropped it in shock. "Make it quick."

"One candy cane gram for Shane Oman," Damian says, adjusting his very poor quality fake beard as he hands Shane his candy cane.

He holds it between his first and index fingers like a pair of dirty underpants and leaves Shane to snatch it. Damian wipes his hand on his red velvet Santa coat like Shane has some sort of hetero cooties he might catch.

"Four for Glenn Coco!" Damian continues. "Hohoho, you go, Glenn Coco. Two for Caddy Heron!"

Cady frowns in confusion. Two? She only bought one. She takes them with a smile as Damian wiggles his way between the rows to deliver them. "Thanks, D."

Damian winks at her and moves on to deliver the next few candy canes to the lucky recipients.

Cady checks the tags on hers. There's the fake one, the one she wrote herself. She smiles to herself as she reads the little red slip of paper on the second one.

Merry Christmas my little elf

<3, J

ps ur short lolololol

She rolls her eyes as she reads the very loving message from her girlfriend and unwraps the end of the candy cane. She sucks on it as she continues pretending to pay attention when Damian leaves and Ms. Norbury can resume her lesson.

——

"Sorry I'm late!" she pretend-puffs as she stumbles her way into the gym. Regina just glares at her from across the room, but Gretchen comes scrambling over to join her as she plops her still-open bag on the ground. "God, I was in the middle of a problem when the bell rang, I didn't even have time to get packed up-"

"You got a candy cane?" Gretchen asks softly. She picks it up and unfolds the tag to read.

"Oh, yeah, Regina sent me one! Isn't she just the best friend?"

"R-Regina?" Gretchen squeaks. "Thanks for being such a great best friend. ...Cute."

"She didn't give you one?" Cady asks with faux-sympathy. She's heard it from the mouth of the lioness herself. There's no way Gretchen got any.

Gretchen shakes her head frantically. "She never sends them."

"Oh. Weird," Cady replies. "Well, you can have that one if you want. I had another one."

"I have to go," Gretchen chokes around floods of tears. Shit. Maybe Gretchen is a little more fragile than she thought.

"Gretchen," she says pleadingly, running after her friend to the bathroom.

"Well, i-if you and Regina are best friends now... then you can be in charge of keeping all her secrets," Gretchen says as soon as the door closes behind Cady.

Cady just nods. She can tell Gretchen is about to ramble, she doesn't dare interrupt her.

"Like, for example, she bought you those shoes just to make fun of you! Be-because she knew you wouldn't be able to walk in them. And she's not really blonde!"

Cady's eyes widen. She's not? Her eyes flick to the door as she hears a shocked gasp come from the other side. Was that... Damian?

"Her natural color is dark blonde. Also she totally cheats on Aaron!"

Cady almost chokes.

"Every Thursday she says she has a cheer intensive but she totally just stays behind to hook up with Shane Oman in the lion costume!"

"She makes him wear the costume?" Cady asks in disgusted horror.

"No! They're both in the costume!" Gretchen bellows, snapping the candy cane in half and dropping the pieces to the floor. Cady's jaw drops.

"Oh my god."

"And I never told anyone because I am such a good friend! I-I'm gonna go fill up my water bottle. Cover for me?" Gretchen sniffles. Cady nods.

Gretchen ducks out of the room. Damian enters before the door even closes, and Janis slams her way out of the stall. Damian hysterically whimpers, "I wear that costume!"

"Cads, that was amazing! What did you do?!" Janis says with an adorably delighted smile on her face. She rushes up and grabs Cady by the arms, spinning her around before she leans in for a kiss.

"Just a little Christmas magic," Cady responds with a grin of her own as soon as they break apart. "I sent myself a candy cane but I signed it as being from Regina."

"Clever girl," Janis coos in a horrible accent. Cady giggles.

"Okay, I gotta go! Love you guys." Janis gets another kiss and Damian gets a quick hug before Cady runs back to the gym to start their last parade practice.

————-

Cady grumbles as she wakes up the next morning. It's barely morning, the sun hasn't even risen yet. She has to be in the city, an hour away, two hours before the parade starts at 8:00. And she has to be there with her hair and makeup already done.

She does consider herself a morning person, but four in the morning is a bit much for anyone.

She grumbles as she hauls herself out of bed and stumbles to the restroom. She turns on the light and resists the urge to wince and close her eyes. How am I meant to be a jolly elf on five hours of sleep?

Cady opens her eyes extra wide, looking a little past unhinged when she sees herself in the mirror, to let the light in and hopefully wake her up.

By the time she's done brushing her teeth, she doesn't squint in the light anymore. She still grumbles sleepily as she washes her face, though.

She brings up the photo Regina sent (accompanied by many profanities) of what her makeup should look like so she can copy it. It's honestly not very different from her usual cheer makeup. Foundation, lots of gold eyeshadow, black mascara, red lipstick. Pretty much the only difference is the bright pink blush that she leaves in neat little circles on the apples of her cheeks instead of blending it up her cheekbones to look more natural. It's a little more rag doll than elf, but maybe it'll work better with the costume on.

She does her hair in two french braids, parted as close to even as she can get down the middle of her head and twisted intricately so they won't fall out after a morning of being mostly upside-down. She gives up on each braid a bit before the end, and ties the bands around halfway down instead of at the ends. Kind of a cute look, she thinks, as she fluffs out her curls at the end of each braid.

"You ready, binti? Have a Kälteen bar," her mother says when she trudges her way downstairs. Cady grabs the bar and takes a disgruntled bite out of it. She nods.

"You're sure this Regina friend can bring you home? We have to leave right from-"

"Right from the parade, I know, Dad," Cady says. "I quadruple checked, I'll make it home fine. Have fun at the vet conference."

"Oh, we will," her mother promises. "There's a keynote speaker on upgrades in euthanasia technology."

"...Cool," Cady replies.

"Right?! Alright, go get in the car. You sure you have everything?"

"Yeah. Regina has my outfit, I'll get changed there," Cady says. She looks down and brushes some wrinkles out of her Christmas jammies that Janis bought her. She smiles at the memory. My little dork.

"Time to hit the road, then!" her dad says. Cady shrieks as he hoists her off the ground and marches out towards the car.

"Dad!"

Her dad just starts bellowing the chorus to I Love a Parade, probably really irritating their poor neighbors. Cady gets affectionately tossed in the backseat, and her dad continues singing as her parents get into their spots up front and start the drive to Chicago.

————-

"Binti, we're here," her mother says. Cady jumps and snorts, bashing her head against the window she had fallen asleep against. "Ooh, be careful."

"Shit," Cady hisses under her breath, rubbing her new sore spot.

"Language," her dad chides, only half-serious.

"Sorry daddy. Have fun in Peoria. I love you," Cady says, bending at a weird angle to hug her parents goodbye. They can only stay long enough to see the beginning of the parade, so she has to get her goodbyes in now.

"We will. Be safe, have fun. No boys," her mother says, gently patting her back.

"I know, I know. You don't have to worry about that," Cady chuckles. Really. You have no idea.

"Atta girl. Go get em, tiger," her dad says, opening the door for her and sending her out. "Love you!"

"Yeah, love you too," Cady says, briefly walking backwards to talk to them. She gives them a final wave before she turns around and starts running to her team's meeting spot. "Yeesh. I'm sixteen."

Regina, once again, chucks her costume at her as soon as she's within sight. Cady manages to catch it this time, and looks around for somewhere private to change. The only place is behind some trees, so she heads that way.

Regina's mom is a talented seamstress and tailored Cady's costume to fit her perfectly. Almost too perfectly. It's so tight against her chest and her belly that she can barely breathe, and the skirt juuuuust barely passes her bum. The candy cane-esque tights are all she has left to protect her modesty.

The shoes with pointy toes and jingle bells are a recent addition, and she jangles her way back over to her friends. "Hey."

"Hey!" Karen greets, too brightly for six in the morning.

"Are your costumes, like, really tight?" Regina huffs, shifting her arms around to try to stretch the fabric a little. "They were huge, my mom can't have fucked up the tailoring this bad."

"Mine's okay," Cady shrugs. Her hat jingles for emphasis.

"Ugh, I'm gonna go see if she has any safety pins," Regina grumbles. Cady's phone pings as she stomps off through the frost-covered grass.

jayjay: good mornin buttercup

cadygirl: >:|

jayjay: what ?

jayjay: not a good morning??

cadygirl: Sent a picture: It's 6 in the morning and I look like this

cadygirl: And I'm cold >:|

jayjay: aww

jayjay: someone's grumpy

cadygirl: Yeah >:||||

jayjay: steve and i will be there to see you

cadygirl: Yaaaaay 🥰🥰

jayjay: that easy to cheer you up huh

cadygirl: It'd be even easier if you bring me food

jayjay: little conwoman

cadygirl: Whaaaat nooooo

jayjay: i'll take you to breakfast after

jayjay: hobbit

cadygirl: Hey!!

jayjay: not because you're short

jayjay: this time

jayjay: bc they're hungry all the time

cadygirl: Oh

cadygirl: Still v rude of you

jayjay: if i take you to get a happy meal will that make up for it

cadygirl: Yes <333

jayjay: done

jayjay: see you soon peanut

cadygirl: See you soon gorgeous 😘

Cady suddenly feels much warmer as she puts her phone back into her bag. She and Gretchen glue each other's ears on and the whole team does a warmup and stretch routine together. Cady rolls out her wrists and finally smiles as she gets into her spot.

——

The parade is more fun than she was expecting. It's less intense than what she has to do at games, more walkovers and limbers than tucks and punches. She gets a little dizzy, and it's hard not to get run over by the float on the rare occasions she fumbles a landing, but it's still fun. For once, the smile on her face is genuine the whole time.

She waves dorkily when she passes her parents. They both have their phones held up to film and proud smiles beaming across their faces. They wave back just as dorkily before they duck out and are off to their seminar.

Cady doesn't get to do much in the way of the more limber skills anymore. It's fun. She kind of misses doing skills just for fun, for herself. As long as she stays in her spot she can do whatever she wants to. She does all sorts of front walkovers, back walkovers, aerials, the occasional handspring. It's refreshing.

Whenever they come to a stop is when things get interesting. Nobody wants to see a parade stuck in place, so they practiced lots of choreography for that. One of the floats ahead of them gets stuck on a corner, and Cady does a vaulted flip off of Regina's crouched form like a really, really elaborate game of leapfrog. Regina acts like she's dancing with her and whirls her back around so they're in their right spots before they get going again.

Towards the end of the parade, Cady hears a, "Hi Cady!"

She's not supposed to, but she looks over. Stevie is waving eagerly to her, her arm linked with one of her friends. Janis is behind her with a cute grin on her face as she sees Cady in all her elvish glory. Cady wiggles her fingers back in greeting, and kisses the tips of her fingers twice before blowing the kisses in their direction. Janis smiles wider and sneakily blows one back. Stevie just squeals and dances around with her friend. Cady adds a little more flair to her skills than she needs to just for them.

Things stop and start a lot more as the first floats get to the end of the parade route and have to navigate pulling off to the sides of the road or getting where they need to be. Cady and Regina do their series of tricks at least six times. They start adding little bits of flourish to it when it begins to feel boring and repetitive.

Apparently a little too much flourish. Regina does a dramatic turn before she crouches to be Cady's vault.

Cady's already running.

She has no time to stop as Regina's safety pin breaks.

And her costume comes off.

Regina screams and bends down to try to grab it. Cady slips on the fabric and goes head over heels the wrong way. Cameras are already out, pictures and videos being recorded. Apparently more people from North Shore make the trip out to see the parade than they thought.

But Cady can't hear the shutters clicking or the agitated murmuring over the pop her ankle makes as she lands, and the roaring of blood in her ears as a horrific pain radiates up her leg. No, no, no no no nononono.

One of the coaches was walking alongside the float in between them and the crowd to make sure it all went smoothly. She rushes up and helps Regina get herself situated. "You alright, Heron?"

Cady can only sob. My ankle is broken. My ankle is broken and it really hurts. My ankle is broken and I may never be able to tumble again. My ankle-

"Whoa, kid, hey," her coach says. "Can ya walk? Right flank, fall in! You're down a man!"

Cady hops and hobbles her way to the end of the route and sits down on the curb, cradling her ankle and sobbing.

"Are your folks around?"

Cady shakes her head. "Re-Regina's take-taking me home."

Her coach hums and nods. "She ran off. Hope she's okay, too. Dang, kid, that looks gnarly."

That only makes Cady cry harder. What if I just did my last flip?

"I'll uh... go keep an eye out for George," her coach says. She does have the decency to bring Cady her bag. Cady debates texting her parents to let them know, but they're probably already halfway to Peoria. And they were so excited about the keynote, she can't drag them away from that. She'll just have to suck it up.

The pain is... almost bearable. It's not, but she doesn't exactly have much choice. Her sobs slow, and before too long she's just sniffling on the side of the road and holding her sore leg.

She about jumps out of her skin when she hears a, "Caddy!"

"Jesus Christ, Janis! There's people around here!" Cady hisses. Janis' face falls a little.

"Sorry."

"What are you doing here?" Cady asks more gently.

"There's already like, seventy different people sharing videos of you and Regina falling, what the hell happened?"

"I think the Kälteen bars backfired," Cady sniffs, shutting one eye as a wave of pain radiates from her ankle.

Janis frowns. "What do you mean?"

"She's gained so much weight her costume didn't fit," Cady explains through half-grit teeth.

Janis snorts. Cady glares at her. "Sorry."

"She safety pinned it on and it broke and I slipped on the costume," Cady continues. "And I fucked up my landing and I think my ankle is broken."

"Yikes," Janis says in concern.

"She was supposed to take me home," Cady says, trying to stretch out her leg and wincing in pain. Janis winces too.

"Damian and I will take you to the hospital, don't worry about it," Janis says immediately.

"Don't- ow- don't you have Stevie with you?" Cady asks in concern.

"Nah, she wanted to go to her friend's house, I'm free of the child until tonight," Janis replies. "Can I see?"

Cady looks at her hesitantly. Janis looks back. She doesn't push. There are a lot of people around. But Cady needs the comfort of her girlfriend right now. She nods.

Janis carefully eases her stupid jingly boot off her foot, pausing whenever Cady makes a pained noise. By the end Cady has her bottom lip so firmly between her teeth she can taste blood and her eyes screwed shut. It's still not enough to stop a few pained tears slipping out and down her face.

It becomes quickly apparent that Janis has absolutely no idea what she's doing. She gives Cady's foot a gentle, inquisitive poke and pulls back like she's been burned when Cady squeaks in pain. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Cady says, looking at her through squinted eyes and trying to remember how to breathe.

"It's pretty swollen," Janis says in concern. "And bruising already."

Cady sniffs again, looking down at her stupid candy-cane patterned lap. Janis gently tips her chin up.

"It'll be okay, Cads," she murmurs.

"But what if it's not?" Cady hiccups. "What if I never walk on it again? What if I can never do another flip?"

"And what if it's totally fine? What if it turns out to just be a bad sprain and you're back on your feet in a week?" Janis retaliates.

Cady feels her lip tremble. Janis might be right.

But they both know she's not.

"They're coming, hide," Cady says when she hears the cheers coming down the road. Thank god Damian's almost here.

Janis looks at her oddly, sadly, but she obediently ducks behind the tree line to wait for the crowd of people they actually know to clear out.

"Cads! Hey, coach told me you fell, what the hell, babe?!" Damian says as soon as he sees her, sprinting full tilt over to her. "Oh, yikes."

"Is it bad?" Cady asks, feeling tears brimming behind her eyes yet again.

"It's not... great," Damian replies hesitantly. "Can you move it?"

Cady sniffles. "I don't know, I haven't tried."

"Can I?"

Cady nods. Damian carefully braces her ankle with his large, warm hand and gives her foot a gentle wiggle. Several people look in their direction at the noise Cady makes in response.

"Alright, well," Damian says in a voice a solid three octaves higher than normal.

"I'm sorry," Cady sobs.

"Babe, shh," Damian soothes. "I will donate you one of my feet if I have to. We'll go get you patched up and all that, don't worry about it."

"But how will you be a big Broadway star someday if you only have one foot?" Cady giggles wetly.

"I'll manage. Is that Janis peeping at me through the bushes over there?"

"Probably," Cady replies with another giggle. She turns around and sees a familiar pair of blue eyes poked out from behind a gnarled old tree trunk. Janis ducks back behind it when she sees she's been spotted, and Cady smiles. "Yeah. Dork."

Damian smiles too. "She really loves you. Let me text her so she doesn't get picked up for stalking or some shit."

"She does?" Cady sniffles.

"Girl, are you kidding? We haven't had a conversation where you haven't come up at least once since September," Damian says absently as he taps out a message to Janis.

Janis is close enough that they hear her phone ping and her muffled, "Shit!" Cady can't help but laugh.

"Alright, she'll meet us at the car and we'll take you to the hospital."

"Thanks, papa elf," Cady grins. Damian laughs and tosses Cady onto his back to carry her the half-mile back to the parking lot. "These bells are infuriating."

"I think they're fun," Damian replies, a hand over his heart. He wiggles his head to make his hat jingle for emphasis. Cady giggles.

"Thanks for taking me home. I dunno what happened to Regina," Cady says quietly.

"Nobody does, she disappeared after the... incident," Damian replies. Cady frowns.

"Weird."

"I took over on your side so it was still balanced, but apparently she just ran off naked through the woods. Guess you can cross that off your list," Damian says. Cady laughs.

"You make a great elf," she replies. "Your ear keeps poking me, though."

"Sorry," Damian chuckles. "Alright, madam, we have arrived at your chariot."

"'Sup nerds," Janis greets, pushing herself off Damian's mom's car with a small salute.

"Caddy gets front seat privileges, she's broken."

"Ugh!" Janis groans sarcastically. Cady giggles.

"Um, actually... can I sit in the back with you?" she mumbles shyly.

Janis smirks. "We gonna make out?"

Cady rolls her eyes. "Corndog."

"What?!" Damian giggles.

"Is that not right?" Cady replies shyly.

"Did you just call me a corndog?!" Janis cackles.

"Someone tell me what I meant to say!" Cady insists.

Damian barely manages to put her down safely before he almost collapses to the ground in laughter. "Did-did you mean horndog?"

"Yes!" Cady says. "Stop laughing, it's not funny!"

"Yes it is!" Janis chokes through her laughter.

"People are staring, shut up!" Cady hisses. "Stop laughing!"

"Okay, okay," Damian says, wiping tears from his eyes. "Get in, sluts and slurs."

As soon as the doors close, Janis and Damian burst into laughter again. Damian can barely turn the key to start the car, he's laughing so hard. "I didn't mean to say corndog, stop laughing."

"You're so cute," Janis hums, still giggling to herself. "How's the ankle doing?"

"Hurts," Cady sighs.

Janis pouts and pulls Cady into a cuddle. Cady leans into her shoulder with a wince as another burst of pain radiates up her leg. "Poor baby."

—-

After an interesting drive to the nearest urgent care, Janis scoops Cady out and carries her baby-style into the waiting room. The pain is starting to get to Cady again, and she winces and cries quietly as Janis cradles her in her lap.

Luckily, people are so focused on their own injuries or other ailments that two Christmas elves and their art freak barely catch their eye. There's a mother there with a clearly sick little boy snuffling into her shoulder, a duo of frat bros who are clearly drunk and each cradling one arm close to their chest, and an old man in the corner filling out a crossword puzzle from 2011.

"How did your hat survive that whole thing?" Janis asks as Damian plops into the seat next to them with Cady's paperwork.

"I glued it to my head," Cady sniffs. Damian drops his pen in shock.

"You what?!"

"Only in the front, I used clips in the back," Cady replies. Damian sighs and rests his hand on his chest.

"Do not scare me like that," he replies. "Cads, when's your birthday?"

"July thirtieth," Cady says softly.

"Hey, my birthday's in July too!" Damian says. "Twinsies."

Cady can't help but giggle at his desperate attempt to cheer her up. "When's yours?"

"The thirteenth," Damian says.

"Man, I'm still the baby!" Cady huffs. "Miss January over here."

"Not my fault my parents know how to celebrate Easter," Janis shrugs. Cady gasps.

"Janis Sarkisian, we are in public!"

"Whatcha gonna do about it, tiny?" Janis retaliates. "Since we are in public."

"Hmph," Cady grumbles. She cuddles closer into her girlfriend's warm neck.

"You okay?" Janis whispers against her forehead.

"Hurts," Cady whispers back. "Are they gonna see us soon?"

"Probably not," Janis sighs.

Damian goes to hand in her paperwork at the front desk. Beyond that, all they can do is wait.

-

And wait they do. But, eventually, a nurse calls Cady's name and Janis stands to carry her back. Damian follows quickly, running after them through the winding halls.

"Alright, what seems to be the problem?" the nurse says. She does a double take when she sees the elf with one shoe on sitting on the exam table. She snorts a quick laugh but bites her lip to stop herself.

"I think I broke my ankle," Cady says softly. The doctor looks down at her one exposed foot and winces.

"It looks like that might be the case, hon. What happened?" the nurse asks, taking Cady's vitals. "Cross your arm over your chest."

Cady does when she fastens a blood pressure cuff around her wrist. "Um, I was in the parade this morning and I slipped on... something. I fumbled a flip and landed on it weird."

"Did you hear a pop when you landed or was it just a feeling?"

"I heard something pop, and I can't put any weight on it," Cady says anxiously. "And it's a little numb, and kinda... tingly, I guess."

"Mm," the nurse hums. "I'm gonna try and move it a bit, you let me know if anything hurts, alright?" Cady nods and braces as the mere brush of her fingertips against her ankle sends more waves of pain flooding up her whole leg and out her toes. "That hurt?"

"Mmhmm," Cady squeaks.

"Hm," the nurse hums again. "I'm gonna get the doctor to get you an x-ray, alright?

"Thank you," Cady says. She looks down at her lap with a quiet sniffle. She shakes her other foot and humphs at the jingle she gets in response.

"You okay, Peanut?" Janis asks quietly.

"What if it is actually broken?" Cady asks desperately. "I'm the head flyer, broken bones take so long to heal! It'll be weeks before I'm back in, what are they gonna-"

"We have protocols for this kinda thing, Cads, it'll be okay," Damian says. "We get injured all the time. I broke my wrist cheering in middle school and everything was fine. You just gotta take your time to heal."

"But-"

"If it is broken and you try to do anything you could hurt yourself permanently," Janis says. "Repetitive fractures? You have to rest. And we don't know for sure that it's broken yet, it might just be a bad sprain."

Cady sighs and nods. "Thanks for coming with me."

"Anytime, babe," Damian says, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders and resting his head against hers. Cady blinks as his elf ear almost pokes her in the eye. Janis joins in too, and gets a jingle bell up the nose.

Her little crew gets left behind as Cady hops after the doctor towards the x-ray room. She holds as still as she can on the uncomfortable table and listens to the deafening clunks of the machine as it whirls around her foot. It's so loud she's a little worried it'll explode, but the doctor eventually returns from behind the lead partition and leads her back to her room to wait for the results.

It's a very quick wait.

"Your ankle is broken," the doctor says as soon as she walks into the room.

Cady feels her face crumple, and Janis wraps her in a tight hug as Cady lets out a quiet sob. "It's okay, Peanut, shh."

"It'll heal fine, no surgery needed. We call it a nondisplaced fracture, so none of your bones have actually moved out of where they're meant to be. You just need a cast for a little bit and you should be back to normal."

"So-so I'll still-still be able to-to cheer?"

"Not for six to eight weeks, but yes," the doctor replies with a smile. Janis squeezes her tighter as Cady releases a sob of relief.

"I told you," she murmurs, kissing Cady's cheek. Cady sniffles and leans into her shoulder. She needs Janis right now.

"Technically you broke your leg, the bottom part of your fibula here, and there's a hairline fracture in part of your tibia. But they're not displaced enough for you to need surgery, just a cast and no weight bearing for a good while."

"O-okay," Cady sniffs.

"You might wanna... de-elf yourself before we get the cast on, though. Unless you want to keep those tights for a few weeks."

Cady takes the wheel of possible cast colors and the pajamas Damian hands her from her bag. "These are cute! Where'd they come from?"

"Janis got them for me," Cady says with a sniffle as the doctor leaves and Janis and Damian both turn around to give her some privacy to change.

"Oh, did she now? How very soft of her," Damian hums. Janis shoves him. Damian sticks his tongue out in her general direction, unable to tell quite where she is with his hands firmly over his eyes.

"Shut up," Janis responds.

"Stop fighting, you can turn around now," Cady says once she's back in her comfy pajamas. "Which color cast should I get?"

"What's your favorite color?" Damian asks.

"Yellow," Cady replies.

"The purple is cool too," Janis says, tapping the little swatch of it. Cady nods.

Damian leans in close to see all the options. "I like the green."

"I like green," Cady acknowledges. "The Plastics will kill me if I get anything except pink, though."

"Pfft, who cares about them? Regina did this to you," Janis scoffs.

"Because we made her gain weight," Cady retaliates. "This light pink is cute."

"Do whatever you want, Cupcake."

"Cupcake?" Damian responds immediately, accompanied with a gag.

"Look at this little faaaaace," Janis coos, leaning harder into it and squishing Cady's cheeks rather than trying to fend off her friend. Cady goes along with it too, batting her eyelashes coquettishly at him. "Isn't she just the cutest widdle thing?"

"You two are gonna ruin my life together, aren't you?"

“Mm-hmm!" Cady hums happily, her cheeks still smushed in her girlfriend's hand. Damian rolls his eyes. Janis gives Cady's squished-out lips a kiss before she lets her go and smirks at her friend.

"You're the one who was literally speechless for four hours after we told you we were dating," she responds.

"I was in shock, shut up."

"Because your matchmaking never works?"

Damian huffs. "Whatever, it does."

"Name one time."

"This!" Damian insists, gesturing frantically between the two of them. Janis rolls her eyes.

"Whatever you say, Princess," she replies. Damian smiles.

"Thank you."

The doctor returns towards the tail end of that argument and shoots Cady a confused look. Cady just shrugs a little. She hands back all the cast swatches and goes with the light pink she had liked. She does really like it, and the Plastics won't crucify her for it. Well, they might anyway for what happened at the parade, and for needing a clunky, bulky cast in the first place. But at least this'll show she has decent taste and the ability to match.

Janis and Damian each take and squeeze one of her hands as her bones are painfully squished back where they need to be and wrapped in layers upon layers of fabric. The pink shell finishes the job, and Janis asks the doctor for a Sharpie so she and Damian can be the first to sign it.

"Do it small," Cady insists. Damian shoots her a strange look, but they both sign their names in the smallest letters they can right by her toes. Janis adds a little heart by hers for good measure. "Thanks, guys."

Cady gets fit for a set of crutches. It takes a while and she ends up with kids size ones, but eventually she's clicking slowly across the parking lot and finally on her way home.

"Jan, you wanna come over?" Damian asks. Cady pouts a little. She knows he and Janis are best friends, and that they definitely hang out without her sometimes, but it's not like Damian to ask with Cady right there.

"Nah, I gotta go get Stevie," Janis replies. Damian nods. Cady is confused when they pull into Janis' driveway. She should've been dropped off first. Her house is much further out of the way. "Bye Peanut."

Cady returns the kiss she gives. "Bye, baby."

Damian gags in the front seat. "Bye, dumbass."

"Bye, slut," Janis replies, blowing him a kiss as she climbs out of the car in the most complicated way she can and runs into her house.

Damian puts the car back in gear and keeps driving. Cady is more confused when they pull into his driveway. He turns the car off and gets out, leaving Cady alone in the backseat.

"You coming?" he asks, knocking on her window upon noticing she hasn't moved. Cady jumps.

“You're not taking me home?"

"I am not leaving you alone to navigate that house with one foot. But I'll take you home if you'd rather be there," Damian responds.

Cady shakes her head. "No. No, uh... thanks."

"Of course," Damian replies. "Now come on, cripple, my mom'll make us milkshakes."

"Your mom?" Cady asks with a smile.

"Oh, shit, you haven't met her yet! Uh, be ready for like, a lot of hugs. And she might cry. She's a big empath."

"Okay," Cady giggles. "She sounds great."

"She is," Damian says with a small smile. He unlocks the door and drops their stuff in the small area for shoes and coats and bags. "Ma, I'm home! And I brought Cady!"

Stanley comes running down the hall as soon as she hears the door. Damian protectively stands in front of Cady so the excited pup doesn't knock her over, but Cady smiles and rests her crutches against the wall so she can give the sweet little thing some scritches. "Hi, Stanley! How are you, baby girl?! Oh, yes, hi! I missed you too!"

"Stanley, gentle, Caddy's broken," Damian says. Stanley actually does calm a little bit, sniffing curiously at Cady and wagging her entire rear end instead of jumping on her like she did last time.

"Hey, baby girl!" Damian's mother greets, coming down the hallway in such a blaze of glory that it's immediately apparent where Damian gets his showmanship from. Cady looks up and smiles as she wraps him in a hug.

"Hi Ma," Damian responds, hugging his mom back and handing Cady her crutches again.

"How was the parade?" his mom asks, leading the two of them down the hall. She clocks Cady hobbling after them, then. "Ah."

"Yeah, she broke her ankle," Damian responds.

"At the parade?! Oh, honey!" his mom says immediately, wrapping Cady in such a tight hug she thinks she hears a few of her ribs pop. "You poor thing! Oh, come in, come in, sit down. Damian, help her to the living room, come on now."

"Can we go to my room instead?" Damian asks. His mom rolls her eyes.

"Yes, go ahead. It's on this floor, Cady, don't worry baby."

"Thanks, Ms. Hubbard," Cady replies with a smile. She gets another tight hug and actually has to cough a little when she's released to get her breathing back in a normal rhythm.

"Of course, baby! What kind of milkshakes do y'all want?"

"Oreo?" Damian suggests. Ms. Hubbard looks to Cady, and she nods eagerly. "Please."

"Coming right up."

"Thank you," Cady says as she's off back to the kitchen.

"Don't mention it, baby!" she calls back.

"Your mom is great," Cady says. Damian nods. Cady squeaks in surprise as he hauls her onto his back and starts carrying her down the hall towards his bedroom next to the garage.

"She is."

"She's very comforting," Cady continues. Damian nods again. "I see where you get it from."

"D'aww, thanks," Damian coos. He's actually blushing a little bit, and Cady smiles as he rests her down on his cushy bed. He fusses over her like a worried mother, helping her take her makeup and ears off as Cady looks around his bedroom for the first time. She's been here before for movie nights, but only ever in the basement.

None of the actual drywall is visible; completely plastered over with posters of drag queens and black-and-white photos of old Broadway stars. Cady can barely breathe for Judy Garland and Cher and RuPaul. There's fairy lights of all colors hanging from the crown molding, illuminating and twinkling over a full wall of Playbills in protective clear plastic sleeves. The furniture is a bit plain by comparison, but it all just feels like Damian's spirit has exploded into the room. It's amazing.

"Your room is so cool," Cady says.

"Thanks!"

"You have a lot of Playbills," Cady continues. "Have you actually seen that many shows?"

"God, no," Damian chuckles. "The top row there are the only ones I've seen in person, the rest are from eBay."

"Cool," Cady replies.

"Has Janis taught you about musicals yet?"

Cady shakes her head with a smile. "She said she wouldn't be able to do it justice."

Damian snorts. "Yeah, right. She just doesn't want to sit through them."

"She doesn't like them?"

"She only watches them once a year on my birthday and if I sing a lyric that could even approach being from a musical she'll punch me in the jugular."

"Really?"

Damian nods, fiddling with the mouse to wake up the computer and typing in his pin. "You've brought a lot of her walls down. So... thanks for that."

"I'm glad," Cady replies softly. "She deserves it."

"She does," Damian agrees. He shrugs suddenly. "Anyway, what do you want to watch?"

"You pick. I don't know anything," Cady giggles. Damian nods and opens a folder full of bootlegs. He murmurs the titles under his breath until he lands on a good first musical for her.

"Ooh! Okay, here, you'll love this one. The movie is good too, but the stage production is amazing."

Cady cuddles into his arm and peeks at the file name. She squeals, "Lions?!"

"Lions is an understatement for The Lion King," Damian says. Cady wiggles excitedly as he opens it and makes it full screen. "Can you see?"

"Mmhmm. Thanks, D."

"Anytime, Little Slice."

His mom pops in with their milkshakes a few minutes in and seems completely unphased seeing her son cuddled up with a girl she's known for fifteen minutes. Apparently this is normal for him. "Thank you, Ms. Hubbard."

"You're welcome, sweet girl. Y'all just holler if you need anything, alright? Ooh, Lion King. That's a good one," she replies as she leaves again.

"Cady's from Kenya," Damian explains.

"No shit?" his mom replies, making Cady choke on her milkshake in shock.

"Um, yeah, I just moved here this summer," she says.

"Ain't that something. Alright, have fun, you two."

"Thanks, Ma," Damian says as she shuts the door behind her.

They sip at their tasty milkshakes while they watch. Cady might be in love. She's immediately bopping along to all the musical numbers and oohing and aahing over the special effects.

Damian looks at her expectantly when the curtain call is over.

"That was so cool!" she squeals. "Can we watch it again?"

Damian laughs. "I'm glad you liked it. You like musicals now?"

Cady nods eagerly. "Yeah."

"Good," Damian says with a victorious smirk. He takes a picture of them cuddled up together and sends it to Janis with a caption reading, I win Caddy likes musicals. He gets an eye roll emoji in response and clicks off his phone with a smug grin. "Let's try something else, but we'll come back if you want to after."

"Okaaaaay," Cady huffs jokingly.

They watch about four more, occasionally shifting positions to keep comfy on Damian's plush bed. The milkshakes are long gone, but neither of them care.

"Thanks for taking care of me," Cady murmurs after the last one. Damian gently bumps into her.

"Anytime. Sorry Janis was busy, I know she wanted to be the one to kidnap you."

"No, it's okay," Cady says immediately. "I love her, but she'd be so worried she'd barely let me move. Not that that's bad, she's just... a lot, sometimes."

"You love her, eh?" Damian teases. Cady blushes. "Oh, shit, do you?"

"I mean... we've only been dating for a month," Cady begins hesitantly. "But... I might... already love her, like, a lot."

"D'aaawww, my little gaybies," Damian squeals.

"Shut up," Cady scoffs.

"She loves you too," Damian says matter-of-factly.

Cady looks at him. "She does?"

"I told you earlier. This bitch will not shut up about you. I've never seen her like this. It's kind of freaky," Damian chuckles. "Always, have you seen Caddy's eyes up close? They're such a pretty green. And she's sooooo tiiiiny, she just fits in my arms like a puzzle."

"She did not say that."

"On RuPaul she did."

Cady blinks. "Did I break her?"

"Honestly? Maybe. But I like it. She's annoying sometimes, but this Janis seems... healthier."

"Good," Cady replies.

"You, on the other hand," Damian replies, looking pointedly at her left foot. Cady giggles.

"It's fixed, I'll be okay," she replies.

"You got lucky there, kid. I really thought you were gonna need surgery," Damian says.

"I did too, honestly," Cady admits.

"...And now I think about it, Regina is a little chubbier."

"Right? It totally worked!" Cady squeals. Damian laughs. "Now we just have to get people to stop treating her like the queen bee and get Aaron out of her clutches."

"Godspeed, soldier. Doing the lord's work," Damian says with a salute. Cady giggles. "Do you, like, wanna go home?"

Cady sighs. "I should."

"Bitch, is that what I asked? Do you want to or not?" Damian insists.

"I mean... it's always weird there without my parents," Cady mumbles, fidgeting with her fingers. "But I don't wanna impose."

"Hold on," Damian says. Cady jumps when he turns his head to the side and hollers, "Ma!"

"What?!" his mother yells back.

"Can Cady sleep over?!"

"Her folks okay with it?!"

"Your folks okay with it?" Damian asks Cady in a much, much softer tone. Cady nods in confusion. Damian yells back, "Yeah!"

"Then she's always welcome! Dinner's in half an hour!" his mom replies.

"Thank you!" Cady yells.

"You're welcome, baby!"

"See? Problem solved," Damian says. Cady giggles.

"You're the best, D."

"And don't you forget it."

————-

thank you for reading!!

i have a oneshot coming for y'all on wednesday that i'm very (cautiously) excited about and am working myself to the bone trying to get the next chapter of this and another oneshot done per my usual "schedule" if you can call it that lol.

i apologize for not being more prepared but i spent most of february auditioning for the tour!! so that took a lot of my focus but it's done now and i am back in as full of a swing as i can get lol.

so fingers crossed! and if i don't get it done in time you'll just get three of each with my next round of fics :)

thank you all so much again for being here. i love every little one of you muppets so dearly.

lots of love,

ezzy

#mean girls #mean girls 2004 #mean girls musical #mean girls the musical #mean girls broadway #mean girls on broadway #mean girls 2024 #cadnis #paint by numbers #space safari #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady x janis #cady heron #janis sarkisian #janis ian #janis ‘imi’ike #picking teams

[134340am]

hello yuna!! for your event, may i ask for #6 + househusband!atsumu pretty please 😋 congrats again!!!

househusband!miya atsumu x gn!reader, 1.2k, sfw warning: reader consumes unnamed painkillers part of my 200 frens celebration!

6. "don’t worry, i’ll drive you. let’s go.”

at 12.04 p.m., you’re hitting send on an important email you’ve read five times over. then you’re staring at the little grey bar at the bottom of the page, checking and double-checking to make sure the email made it out of your outbox. the harsh fan of the air-conditioner stings your dry eyes.

at 12.05 p.m., you’re clicking through the rest of the emails in your inbox. your morning meeting had only lasted a short two hours, and in that time, your inbox had already started to pile up. an unapologetic INBOX: 28 blinks up at you. you sigh, suddenly exhausted, and rub your hand over your eyes sleepily.

at 12.06 p.m., you’re pulling your hand away from your eyes to stare in disbelief at a very excited, very jumpy miya atsumu beaming down at you.

“ya forgot yer lunch at home, silly goose!” he chirps, and you could barely mumble a greeting in return before your husband was tugging on the panda-patterned handkerchief your bento boxes were wrapped in.

“‘tsumu, i— not that i’m not happy to see you, but how did you get in here?” you finally ask, brain foggy from a lack of sleep. were you hallucinating? did you seriously miss your husband so much that you were imagining his presence?

a pair of chopsticks clumsily pushed into your hands tells you otherwise, and you were snapped out of your reverie by the sound of atsumu’s amused laugh. “they buzzed me in. told ‘em i had to get yer lunch to ya as soon as i can, or ya’d get hangry. and no one wants to see ya hangry.”

you crack a smile at that—your first real smile of the day, not counting the one you gave atsumu when he dropped you off at work this morning. “thank you, ‘tsumu. you’re right, i am kinda hungry. i didn’t even realise i forgot my lunchbox.” 

atsumu, already digging in, smiles back at you through a mouthful of rice. “‘m just glad i made it before the angry part of hangry got to ya. what would ya ever do without me, baby?”

“probably wither away in front of my computer,” you shrug. you carefully remove the sea creature-themed food picks atsumu stuck in your cherry tomatoes, setting them aside. “lunch-wise, i was thinking of grabbing something quick from the convenience store.” 

a loud gasp sounds out from across the table.

“no can do, baby. i promised i wouldn’t let ya eat another microwaveable chicken skewer when we got married.”

“but i like microwaveable chicken skewers! they have a new flavour now, some kinda herb and garlic thing, and i've been wanting to try it.”

“i’ll make ya some next time, if ya insist.” 

you pout, knowing better than to fight atsumu on anything when he’s already made up his mind. besides, you trust that anything he makes will definitely be better than whatever microwaveable version you can get. however… 

“fine, but i still want to stop by the store later.” you insist. “my head is killing me. i’ll just get some painkillers real quick to tide me through my report due tomorrow.”

you watch as atsumu stops chewing immediately, eyebrows and lips dipped into a concerned frown. 

“ya poor baby. didn’t sleep well?” your husband asks, reaching over your desk to pat your hair. you find yourself leaning into his warm touch. “i drove here. i’ll bring ya there.”

“you don’t have to, love. it’s just an eight-minute walk,” you mumble. “besides, you woke up early to cook today. you should go home and take a nap.”

“it’s an eight-minute walk but a two-minute drive. ya think i’d rather sleep than look at my beautiful baby? not a chance.” atsumu lays down his chopsticks, all done with his share of the meal now, and rounds the table over to you. 

you stare down at your lunch, suddenly shy. you were left with a slice of tamagoyaki, lightly salted with soy sauce and browned on one side, the way you like it. to the left of your egg roll was a mouthful of freshly cooked rice atsumu prepared in the morning—you knew this because you woke up to the sweet, fragrant smell that filled your apartment today. 

your husband laid a comforting hand on the back of your neck, rubbing delicately at the skin there. “don’t feel bad, baby. it’s my job. so don’t worry, i’ll drive you. let’s go.”

your trip to the store took almost no time at all: one minute and 50 seconds, to be exact, and you know this because you were staring at your wristwatch the entire time. the pounding headache you had seemed to activate some sort of car sickness in you, because you were wobbly on your feet when you exited the car. 

the discomfort you felt, in addition to there being not much time left on your lunch break—a fact you made clear to your husband—meant there wasn’t time for the pair of you to shop slowly. 

if you weren’t so sick, you would’ve been keeling over with laughter at the sight before you. all business now, atsumu struts into the store with the same urgency an oba-san might have during thursday egg sales, and sweeps up a tiny basket that he hangs in the crook of his arm—looking no less like a seasoned shopper on a mission.

“we don't need a basket, ‘tsumu. i just need a box of painkillers.” on the other hand, you were a lot less enthusiastic about shopping, the cool white fluorescent lights of the store adding to the painful weight in the back of your skull.

“‘m just grabbin’ a few things. hang in there baby, i’ll only be a minute,” he reassures you, and you watch through heavy eyes as your husband sweeps a myriad of snacks, fruit, and juice off the shelves.

within minutes (after atsumu’s quick sprint to the cashier while you watched on, dazed), you were ushered back into the car. you wash your painkillers down with a big gulp of juice before dozing off into a dreamless sleep, the last thing you recall being atsumu’s soft humming.

when you stirred awake, you were met with a familiar view: the homely stretch of shops in your neighbourhood—your favourite crepe stand, a small hypermart selling organic local produce, a bicycle repair shop—swings into view.

“‘tsumu,” you mumble, vision blurry from sleep. “are you bringing me back to the office?”

“nope,” he replies and turns a corner. “we’re going home. ya need rest, love.”

“but i have work to do!” you protest half-heartedly. your eyes stay trained longingly on the little crepe stand, watching the seller, a kind oji-san, tip sprinkles over an ice cream crepe. 

“ya can start on that after you take a nap. with me!”

still sleepy, you sink deeper into your plush leather seat and sigh. “‘tsumu, you did not just kidnap me from my workplace.” 

“wasn’t a kidnappin’ if ya came along willingly.”

“i thought we were just going to the store!” you whine, punching his arm. 

the corner of atsumu’s lips curl into a teasing smile. “fine then, i’ll make a u-turn up ahead—”

“don’t you dare, miya atsumu!” 

“i’m joking, baby. let’s getcha home.” he chuckles, a soft, boyish sound that automatically had you breaking into a smile that mirrored his. “whaddya think of chicken skewers for dinner?”

“...chicken skewers? you’ll make some?”

“of course!” your husband tosses you a reassuring grin. “herb and garlic, right?”

a/n: apologies for the wait, sweet ann! i love love love househusband!atsumu so i took my time with this :*) thank you for requesting him, and for always leaving great feedback on my writing <3 i appreciate you lots!

(masterlist) (series masterlist)

#miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #atsumu fluff #haikyuu #miya atsumu #atsumu #haikyuu imagines #yuna's 200 frens celebration #yuna writes

[liquidstar]

(quotes i like from your WIP 2/4) "However, she also stops to look into the bag deeper, foolishly expecting to find something new. Instead, she only sighs, 'Still no food.'" this is so human... it's so human nature to check and double-check the cupboard or fridge multiple times even though no one could've added food :'| but it can also be so awesome when you think there'll be nothing there but you actually simply missed it the first time... so thorough, polaris, i understand you 🥲 i like how this + polaris having not given up on fishing that easily hint toward her having a hopeful personality!

you used lots of strong, emotionally evocative verbs, like "trudges forward" (and later, "Escaping this ordeal, the lone girl abandons any further attempt at fishing," "She whines aloud," "pursuing the promise of a village" and "a glimmer of determination returns to her stride"), and i love how polaris's hunger is something you keep revisting, bc while she can distract herself from it for a bit by humming, and while she gets distracted by her panic for a bit, the reader can't forget that she's still hungry. which is great!!!! it's putting us in her shoes. she can't forget she's still hungry. after the failed fishing attempt, she also has Got To notice her clothes got wet, and she's cold now too T~T 

YEA!!!! thats a good analogy w the fridge. and polaris would absolutely be the kinda person who opens the fridge 20 times expecting there to suddenly be food she wants in there, even though there wasnt the previous 19 times.

i think i like being dramatic with all those verbs i cant say it was a super CONSCIOUS choice other than "this feels right" and i guess feels is the keyword. plus shes really getting her ass kicked by these woods rn so its going to be a lot

but i did try to make sure the hunger was a constant! the fact that shes hungry is genuinely important later on because it affects her stamina and mood. and it also sucks because shes aware of it! but she does eat eventually so dont worry 👍 this is just her no good awful very bad day