#Utensil Set for Lunch Box | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

radioactivatedspider · 11 days ago

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It's all Pink

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Pairings; soldier boy x Reader, beau arlen x reader, dean winchester x reader

Genre; Domestic fluff, humor, light romance, soft!Mark Meachum, canon divergence

Warnings; Language, suggestive comments, domestic themes, mentions of violence (very mild), Mark being emotionally constipated, glitter in a tactical environment

Summary: Language, suggestive comments, domestic themes, mentions of violence (very mild), Mark being emotionally constipated, glitter in a tactical environment

2679 words

If anyone had told the world’s most dangerous man—the walking nuke himself, Soldier Boy—that his entire kitchen would one day look like a Strawberry Shortcake fever dream, he would’ve laughed in their face. Probably decked them too.

But here he was. Sitting shirtless at the breakfast bar, dog tags dangling over a faint pink stain on his sweats (from yesterday’s strawberry smoothie), sipping black coffee out of a glittery pink cup that said “Hubby of the Year 💕” in cursive.

“Your eggs are shaped like hearts again,” he muttered, eyeing the plate she set down in front of him.

“Yeah,” she said with a satisfied little hum, adjusting the fluffy pink bow on her apron. “Because I love you.”

He popped a forkful into his mouth and grunted, “Damn right you do.”

Across from him, the kitchen glowed with rose tones—pink utensils, pink containers, pink towels, pink fridge magnets. Even the damn dish soap bottle had a pink pump she customized with rhinestones. She didn’t work a traditional job—didn’t need to. He paid for everything. Cards. House. Groceries. Pink-sparkle kitchen stuff.

But she cooked three meals a day, kept the whole place spotless, and went out shopping with an organized list and military-level efficiency. The house never ran out of toilet paper or hot sauce. He never had to lift a finger unless it was to grab her ass when she walked by.

And he liked it that way.

Back home, she was restocking the fridge—pushing cute labeled containers into place, humming some love song under her breath.

“Babe?” he called, dropping his gear at the door.

“In the kitchen!”

He stepped in, still holding the empty pink lunchbox like a trophy. “They saw it today. All of it.”

She turned around, eyes wide. “Oh no. Did they laugh?”

“Hell yeah. I threatened to rip their tongues out.” He smirked, dropping the lunchbox on the counter and wrapping his arms around her waist. “Told ‘em real men drink from glitter cups and eat fruit shaped like stars.”

She smiled against his chest. “You don’t care they tease you?”

“Tease me?” He leaned down to kiss her neck. “They’re just jealous they don’t got a girl who spoils ‘em like you spoil me. They all want what I got. They just don’t got the balls to admit it.”

She melted into him, letting his body heat wrap around her like a blanket. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Damn right I am.” He spun her around and lifted her up onto the counter with ease, pulling her between his legs. “Now quit talkin’ and kiss your husband. That lunch box was cute and all, but I’m hungry for dessert.”

If someone had told Sheriff Beau Arlen that his life would one day be color-coded in soft pinks and glitter, he would’ve chuckled, tipped his hat, and said “Yeah, not a chance.”

And yet here he was, sitting in his kitchen in a gray Henley and flannel pajama pants, sipping dark roast from a pink glitter cup that said “World’s Hottest Husband 💗” in bold, bubbly letters. There was even a tiny pink heart-shaped silicone ice cube floating in it, even though it was hot coffee.

He didn’t question it anymore.

“You made the eggs into flowers again,” he noted, eyeing his plate as she set it in front of him.

“I did,” she said proudly, adjusting the fuzzy pink headband keeping her hair out of her face. “I saw a new mold at the store and couldn’t help myself.”

Beau took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and gave her a nod. “Tastes like love.”

Her whole aesthetic was soft, ultra-feminine, and adorable—pink everything, from measuring spoons to dish towels. She didn’t work a nine-to-five; she didn’t have to. Beau paid the bills, no questions asked. What she gave in return was a fully-stocked kitchen, a spotless house, warm meals every night, and a sense of peace he hadn’t felt since Texas.

She ran their home like it was her personal kingdom. He never missed socks, had to refill toilet paper, or drank bad coffee. And yeah, his thermos was pink. So were the containers in his lunch bag. So was the smiley-face sticky note she left on his dashboard every morning.

And he liked it that way.

“Yo… what is this?”

Deputy Poppernak blinked at the pink bento box sitting on the breakroom counter next to Beau’s sheriff badge and hat. It was covered in sparkly fruit stickers and little smiley stars. Next to it was a hot pink thermos with glitter swirls and the words “Sheriff Stud ☕️💞” in chunky lettering.

Jenny walked in behind him, smirking. “That’s Arlen’s. Don’t touch it unless you wanna lose a hand.”

“He eats outta that?” Poppernak blinked.

“You’d eat out of it too if you saw what was inside,” Cassie said, passing by with a fresh coffee.

He opened it anyway.

Heart-shaped turkey sandwiches. Tiny pickles wrapped in parchment. Strawberries sliced into roses. There was even a pink macaron sealed in a zip-lock bag labeled “Sweet like you 💘” in gel pen.

“Damn,” he muttered.

Jenny snatched the handwritten note and read: “‘If you forget to eat, I’m calling the precinct and telling them to send you home. Love you. PS: you better be using that cute cup, it was $19.99 on sale.’ ...She’s got him trained.”

“Trained?” Beau’s voice came from the doorway, deadpan and amused.

Everyone turned to see him walking in, badge clipped to his belt and his glittery thermos already in hand.

“She’s not training me,” he said, setting his keys down. “She’s feeding me. Keeping me sane. If you’re lucky, one day someone’ll love you enough to cut your sandwich into hearts.”

Poppernak blinked. “You’re not even a little embarrassed?”

Beau smirked, then took a loud, exaggerated sip from his glitter thermos. “Embarrassed? Brother, I’m the envy of every man in this town.”

Back at home, she was unloading groceries—pink reusable bags, of course—humming to herself while she put things away by category.

“Babe?” Beau called as he kicked off his boots at the door.

“Kitchen!”

He stepped in, still holding the empty lunchbox. “They saw it today. All of it. Even the cup.”

She turned, slightly panicked. “Did they say anything mean?”

“They tried,” he said with a lazy smile. “Didn’t last long.”

She laughed, relieved. “You’re really not embarrassed?”

“Hell no.” He dropped the lunchbox on the counter and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “You take care of me better than I deserve. You think I care what anyone else says? I’m proud of everything you do for me. Even the glitter cup.”

Her shoulders relaxed as she leaned back into him. “I just like spoiling you. You work so hard…”

“And you keep our home runnin’ like a damn machine. I like being spoiled.” He turned her around and lifted her onto the counter with a wink. “And I really liked that little macaron.”

“Oh yeah?” she giggled, looping her arms around his neck.

“Mm-hm,” he said, kissing the side of her mouth. “But now I want something sweeter.”

The kitchen in the Men of Letters bunker used to be… functional. Stainless steel. Government-issue. A little cold. Kind of depressing.

Now?

Now it looked like Barbie got her hands on a military budget.

Pink spatulas hung neatly from gold hooks. A floral runner covered the counter. There were pastel labels on every jar—sugar 💕, coffee ☕️, love (cinnamon)—and heart-shaped measuring cups stacked beside the rose-gold toaster. The once-drab lighting now had a gentle warm glow, and a ceramic cookie jar in the shape of a pink bear sat by the sink, permanently full.

Dean Winchester, hunter of monsters, bringer of judgment, was sitting at the table in flannel pajama pants and a black Henley, sipping coffee from a baby-pink mug that said “Best Husband in the Bunker 💗” in curly letters. His breakfast plate was a pastel pink heart, filled with perfectly cooked eggs shaped like stars, pancakes shaped like smiley faces, and heart-shaped bacon curled just so.

His wife floated around in fuzzy pink slippers, humming as she flipped another pancake with her sparkly pink spatula. She didn’t have a job. She didn’t need one. Dean handled the monsters; she handled literally everything else—cooking, cleaning, keeping their laundry folded and the bunker feeling like a home instead of a damn cave.

She didn’t ask for much. Just his loyalty, his appetite, and his total silence every time she added a new cute pink gadget to the kitchen arsenal.

He gave her all three.

“Dude.”

Dean didn’t have to look up to know it was Sam. His brother’s voice was already laced with judgment and amusement.

“What?” Dean grunted, mouth full of smiley-face pancake.

Sam stepped further into the kitchen and blinked around. “Did Barbie and Betty Crocker have a war in here?”

Dean just kept chewing. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m concerned,” Sam said, walking past the cupcake-shaped salt and pepper shakers. “This used to be a tactical kitchen. Like, for actual food prep. Not… whatever this is.”

She turned from the stove and smiled sweetly. “Good morning, Sammy. Sit down, I’m making you breakfast.”

Sam hesitated. “I’m good, really—”

“Sit.” Her tone was still sweet. Still calm. But firm.

Sam sat.

Dean smirked over his coffee cup. “Told ya.”

A moment later, a matching pink plate was set in front of Sam. Same setup: eggs shaped like flowers, bacon curled into little hearts, and toast with a perfectly punched-out center shaped like a star. A pink fork rested on the side, nestled in a lacy pink napkin.

Sam stared at the plate. “Is this… is this strawberry butter?”

“Whipped fresh this morning,” she said proudly, pouring him coffee into a mug that read “Sunshine, Sass, & Salt 👑”.

Dean was openly grinning now. “Go on, Sammy. Eat your little flowers.”

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” Sam muttered, stabbing the toast.

“Oh yeah,” Dean said, popping a strawberry in his mouth. “You make fun of me, but who else gets breakfast served on pink porcelain with a side of unconditional love?”

Sam paused, then took a bite of egg.

“…Damn. Okay. This is actually really good.”

“Told ya.”

Later, as Dean leaned back in his chair, full and content, he watched her dance around the kitchen with her pink spatula, singing softly under her breath. His bunker, once cold and hollow, felt like home now. Lived-in. Loved.

And yeah, the pink was a lot. But it was her. And she was his.

He nudged Sam under the table and nodded toward the wall.

There, hanging on the pantry door, was a framed print she’d put up last week. Soft script over a rose background that read:

“A man who slays monsters deserves a kitchen full of love.”

Sam huffed a breath but didn’t argue.

Dean just smiled.

Pink never looked so badass.

Mark Meachum had been in a lot of kitchens in his life.

Some were silent, sterile compounds with steel countertops and tactical maps pinned to the walls. Others were enemy strongholds, bloodstained and full of smoke, half-burned rations on a cracked stove. Some, he never left alive.

But never—never—had he stepped into a kitchen that looked like this.

Light pink walls. A floral runner down the center of the counter. Matching containers labeled Sugar 🍓, Coffee ☕, Sanity 💗. There were pastel utensils hanging from gold hooks, rhinestone measuring cups, and a sparkling pink timer shaped like a cupcake ticking on the stove.

He should’ve hated it.

But he didn’t.

Because it was hers.

And if she was gonna live in his house—and live off his money—then she could do whatever the hell she wanted, as long as it stayed out of his office. And besides, he hadn’t eaten this well in years.

“Your eggs are smiling again,” he muttered, settling into the chair she made him sit in every morning like some civilian husband with a mortgage and a carpool.

“That’s because I like to start your day with something good,” she said sweetly, setting his plate down in front of him. Smiley-face eggs, star-shaped toast, and bacon twisted into perfect little hearts. “Even if your face never smiles back.”

Mark raised an unimpressed eyebrow, slicing into the egg. “I smile.”

“You smirk. That doesn’t count.”

He grunted but didn’t argue. Because the food was good. Because she was happy. And because deep down—buried under the walls he’d built since his first mission—there was a part of him that liked that she did this. That she made his house feel lived-in, warm, even if it smelled like vanilla candles and strawberry jam half the time.

She didn’t have a job. Didn’t need one. He funded her entire life. The cards, the house, the wardrobe. But in exchange? He never had to think about groceries, meals, laundry, or a single mundane thing that could take his mind off the job. She had it handled—efficiently, beautifully, and always in pink.

It wasn’t long before the others on the task force noticed.

“You… got sparkles on your fork, sir,” Lucas Finau said quietly, peeking at the delicate pink container Mark pulled from his gear bag.

Mark didn’t flinch. He opened the container, unwrapped his sandwich (cut into a perfect circle), and pulled out a handwritten note that read:

“Don’t forget to eat. You’re still human under the armor. Love, your annoying housewife 💘.”

He crumpled the note and shoved it in his pocket without a word.

Amber Oliveras blinked. “Wait… is that a heart-shaped cookie?”

Keyonte Bell leaned over to see. “Bro. It’s got edible glitter on it.”

Mark slowly raised his head. “You got a problem?”

“…Nope. No problem at all, sir.”

Later that night, she was wiping down the glittery pink countertops when he walked in, still in black tactical gear, bruised and tired.

She turned, smiled. “You ate the cookie?”

“Yeah.”

She leaned her hip against the counter. “Did anyone say anything?”

“They stared,” Mark said flatly. “Finau looked scared. Bell pretended not to be impressed.”

She giggled. “And you didn’t care?”

Mark walked toward her, stepping into her space, fingers brushing the pink ribbon tied around her waist like it didn’t belong anywhere else.

“I kill people for a living,” he murmured, eyes locked on hers. “If someone wants to laugh at my glittery sandwich, they can say it to my face.”

She grinned, hooking a finger in the front of his vest. “You like it. You like that I take care of you.”

He didn’t deny it.

Just pulled her close, kissed the side of her head, and muttered, “Next time, add two cookies.”

Taglist: @globetrotter28 @adrienneleclerc @multiversefanfics @smoothdogsgirl @deansbbyx @star-yawnznn @eagerlycyberchaos @artemys-ackles @mar-munteanu06

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mrsha-ang-kim · 7 days ago

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𝐏𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐔𝐩 𝐊𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬

pairings: kid!chan x kid!seungmin x teacher!afab!reader, age swap au (if thats what it can be called, idk)

Synopsis: another day at work and today you have dinosaurs to deal with...

Warnings: fluff, a lott of kid stuff, educational domesticity if you will, age difference, cringe (just a teeny tiny smudge), chan is hyperactive and minnie is not, ft. minho, mentions of jeongin and jisung

a/n: yes yes inspired from skz code ep. 61-62~, note that the only age differenced people are chan and seungmin, if you have extra eyes for errors no you wouldn't.

The morning sun filtered gently through the kindergarten windows, dancing against the colorful alphabet banners and storybook posters that lined the cheerful room. The scent of crayons, juice boxes, and morning dew hung softly in the air. Laughter and tiny voices bubbled around the entrance as sleepy-eyed kids were being dropped off one by one, each with backpacks half their size and matching shoes that lit up when they walked.

You stood at the door of your classroom, already bright-eyed, sipping from a cup of coffee as you chatted with another teacher about the schedule for the day. Your olive-green dress swayed slightly as you laughed softly, gesturing animatedly toward the bulletin board where tiny handprints were drying under laminated stars.

Just outside, little Chan was being carefully adjusted and secured by his mom. His curly brown hair was slightly tousled, and his cheeks were still puffy from sleep. His eyes, though, lit up the second he caught sight of you at the doorway. “엄마~ 빨리~ 저기 선생님이 보여!” Mom~ hurry~ I see teacher over there!

“찬아, 가만있어 봐. 가방부터 메야지.” Chan, hold on. You need to put on your backpack first. He squirmed impatiently as his mom crouched down, gently looping the bright red straps of his tiny bag onto his shoulders. Inside, his lunch was already neatly packed with character-themed utensils and a juice pouch that she had double-checked at least twice.

“오늘 학교에서 착하게 있어야 해, 알았지?” You have to be good at school today, okay?

Chan looked up at her, lips pouting for a second before he nodded firmly, puffing up like a tiny soldier. “약속할게, 엄마.” I promise, mommy. She smiled and kissed his forehead. He giggled, face scrunching up, and then shouted,

“안녕, 엄마~!!” "Bye, mommy~!! Before she could say another word, he bolted. You turned slightly as a sudden squeal of tiny sneakers hitting the tile echoed. Before you could brace yourself, a small body barreled into you with all the force a four-year-old could muster.

“SEONSAENGNIMMMM!!!”

“Wha—oof!” you gasped, stumbling back half a step, your coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

Your arms instinctively came down to stabilize him, but Chan had already wrapped his arms around your legs like a human koala, cheek pressing into the fabric of your dress. He was beaming. “Miss L/N!! I missed you!!” The other teacher chuckled behind her hand while you balanced your drink and gently ran a hand through Chan’s hair, heart already melting at the dramatic reunion.

“Good morning, Chan,” you said, crouching down to his level. “You saw me yesterday, baby.” He gave a huff, like that technicality meant absolutely nothing. “But I missed you all night!”

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you,” you smiled, pressing a quick peck to the top of his head. “You ready for a fun day?” He nodded enthusiastically, bouncing on his toes. “Is Seungmin here yet?! I brought my car to show him!”

You grinned. “Not yet, baby. But he’s coming soon. Want to help me get the markers out while we wait?”

His eyes sparkled like it was the most elite mission of the day. “YES!” And just like that, Chan was already skipping to the art corner, humming a tune as he went, leaving behind a mom who was smiling from the hallway. It was only 8:03 AM. The door creaked open again as another set of small footsteps shuffled down the brightly lit hallway. A little boy with bedhead bangs and slightly squinty eyes waddled his way into the school, his mom gently guiding him with one hand on his backpack.

Seungmin wasn’t mad, per se. He was just in that special morning mood, equal parts sleepy, skeptical, and silently judging the world for daring to exist before 9 a.m. His tiny blue hoodie was zipped all the way up, his backpack sat slightly crooked on his shoulders, and clutched in his left arm with deadly importance was a bright green dinosaur plushie.

His mom bent down to brush his hair gently with her fingers.

"민아, 오늘도 화이팅해야지~ 엄마가 제일 사랑하는 거 알지?" Min, let's do your best today~ You know mommy loves you the most, right? He gave her a squinty nod, lips still in a tight little pout, before muttering, "사랑해, 엄마..." "Love you, mom..."

Then, he turned and trudged toward the classroom like a little duck with a backpack full of taxes to pay. But the moment he stepped past the doorway, “SEUNGMINNNNN!!!” Chan’s voice rang out like a siren from across the room.

Seungmin’s head snapped up like a radar. His pout twitched. There was Chan, standing on his tiptoes on a stool near the art shelf, already waving a red toy car in one hand like it was a prized trophy. His curls bounced with every movement, and he grinned so wide it could’ve powered the classroom lights.

Seungmin didn’t respond immediately. But his steps picked up. That twitch of his pout became a half-smile. And by the time he made it to Chan’s side, the plush dinosaur was swinging freely from his arm, no longer clutched like a security blanket but more like a sidekick ready to fight crime.

You watched them from your spot near the whiteboard, biting back a smile as Chan immediately launched into a detailed explanation of how the toy car “goes zoom like this on the dinosaur slide,” complete with sound effects and hand motions. Seungmin listened with his usual quiet intensity, occasionally correcting Chan’s sound physics with a serious headshake and a muttered, “That’s not how wheels work.”

But before the Great Toy Car Debate of the Morning could fully escalate, the clock struck 8:30, and a soft melody began to chime from the wall-mounted speakers—the school’s first bell of the day. You took a step forward, clapped your hands once loudly, then raised your arms dramatically in the air.

“1… 2… eyes on YOUUUU~!”

A chorus of tiny voices chirped back automatically, as trained:

“1… 2… eyes on YOOOOUUUU~!”

You grinned. “Good job, my little babies. It’s time to get this magical Wednesday started!”

You watched as the group of kids started to gather around, some wobbling with excitement, others still stretching like sleepy cats. You crouched to eye level and continued with a warm, theatrical voice, “Let’s start by putting your lunches and backpacks in your special lockers! Remember, only one buddy gets to hang out with you during class,” you said, gesturing toward Seungmin and his beloved dinosaur with a wink. “Everyone else goes to nap-nap town until break time, okay?”

A chorus of “okay!!” and some very serious nodding followed.

Chan carefully zipped his backpack and skipped over to his cubby, gently patting it like he was tucking in a sleeping bag. Seungmin took a little more time, checking that his lunch box was exactly aligned in the center of his locker, then gave his dinosaur a slight bounce and nestled him in the crook of his arm like a knight preparing for battle.

Once everyone was seated on their floor mats in front of you, you clapped your hands in rhythm again.

“Now~! Remember those awesome drawings I gave you on Monday? The ones with the cool shapes and blank spots ready for your super coloring skills?”

Gasps erupted like it was the announcement of the year. “Take them out of your folders, and let’s bring them up here so we can get coloring together. If anyone forgot theirs, don’t worry, Ms. L/N's got spares! Because Ms. L/N is awesome.”

Chan raised both hands. “You are awesome!!” Seungmin, still half-snuggled with his dinosaur, nodded solemnly. “She’s better than Ms. Cartoons.”

You blinked. “Who’s Ms. Cartoons?”

“Not important,” Seungmin muttered with authority.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you watched the kids scatter, retrieving their folders and bringing them to the front like little workers delivering secret missions.

The classroom was now filled with the sounds of crayons being unpacked, papers being straightened, and children sharing color choices with the diplomacy of tiny CEOs. The soft background music you always played during creative time began to float through the air, gentle piano notes over the sound of chattering imagination.

And just like that, the day had officially begun. The classroom buzzed with focus and faint humming, a patchwork of scribbling crayons, giggles, and the occasional gasp when someone discovered a new color in their crayon box, as if finding a secret treasure. You moved through the little jungle of floor mats and tiny plastic desks like a breeze of calm and color. Your voice was warm, your smile soft, and your hands gently adjusting posture or guiding a hand back inside the lines with practiced ease.

“Lily, sweetheart, remember the sky isn’t just blue…try adding some purple. That sunset you showed me last week had loads of purple, right?”

The curly-haired girl beamed and dug into her crayon pile, immediately declaring, “I’m gonna make a sunset unicorn now!!”

“Legendary,” you grinned and moved on. At one corner of the room, a student was drawing a robot with suspiciously long legs. “Whoa, Max! That robot could probably play basketball with those legs. Don’t forget his arms though, he needs balance or he’s gonna tip right over!”

You chuckled, setting a few fallen crayons back on tables as you floated through the aisles like a whimsical commander of calm chaos, adjusting name tags on desks, closing a few crooked lunch cubbies, and picking up a pair of tiny socks (why were there socks already?) and placing them neatly near the nap area.

As you approached the corner where Chan and Seungmin sat side-by-side, legs crisscrossed, crayons scattered you crouched down and rested your elbows gently on your knees.

“Wow… just wow.”

Chan lit up, immediately presenting his drawing with dramatic flair. “It’s a flying fire truck that sings while saving kittens!”

The paper was a colorful explosion of vivid reds, bright blues, glittery yellow streaks that definitely weren’t in the original set, and a suspicious use of purple on the windshield. You gasped. “Are you kidding me? That’s brilliant, Chan! You used so many colors and made them work together! This fire truck’s got fashion sense!”

Chan grinned like he’d just won an award. “It sings opera too.”

“Of course it does,” you said with a mock-serious nod, then turned to the boy next to him.

Seungmin didn’t look up right away. He was still focused, carefully coloring the tree canopy in his picture with a dark green crayon, slow and steady. His dinosaur plush was watching from beside him like a loyal coloring supervisor. But you noticed it right away, every shape within the lines, every tree, cloud, and bunny rabbit neat and intentional, like a little architect at work.

“Seungmin…” you said, your voice dipping into that sweet teacher-proud tone. “You stayed inside the lines perfectly. That’s some next-level coloring. I think your dino might be training you to be a professional illustrator.” He gave you a half-shy, half-smug smile. “I’m gonna be better than the people who make books.”

You tapped his paper gently. “Well, if this is your warm-up, the book world better be nervous.”

You stood up and stretched lightly, then walked over to your desk at the front of the room. On your way, you hit the small Bluetooth button on your speaker and soon the soft, bubbly intro of a cartoon theme song trickled through the air.

“Alright my little artists,” you announced in sing-song. “We’ve officially entered the ‘Color & Chill’ zone. Enjoy your tunes and finish strong!”

The music that played was a rotating mix of familiar childhood tunes and even an alphabet mash-up that made a few kids bob their heads in sync. One boy even stood and started doing a little penguin dance before sitting back down with a dramatic flair. At your desk, you pulled out your laptop and a stack of folders—classwork to log, lesson plans to skim. You sipped your coffee (now cold, of course—classic teacher problem), and began tapping away at your keyboard, stealing little glances up at the kiddos every now and then.

And slowly, like flowers coming to bloom one by one, the children began trickling up to your desk. Chan was first. Obviously.

“Ms. (L/N), do you want the fire truck to sing for you?”

You gasped. “I would be honored.”

He did the most dramatic, high-pitched aaaaAAAAH opera note a six-year-old could manage, waving his drawing in the air as if conducting an orchestra. You clapped like he’d just finished a symphony. “Incredible. That’s going straight to the class gallery.” Next was a shy little girl with a drawing of a cat with stars in its eyes. “It’s a magical dream kitty,” she whispered.

“I love her,” you whispered back. “Tell her I said she’s the moment.”

Then came Seungmin. Quiet, confident, offering his drawing with one hand and adjusting his dino with the other. No words. Just a stare.

You looked at the paper, then at him.

“Still better than the people who make books,” you said with a wink. A corner of his mouth tugged up in pride before he marched back to his seat. One by one, the papers stacked up on your desk like a colorful skyscraper of dreams and crayons. You made a mental note to hang them up on the classroom walls later today.

Just as you saved your document on the laptop and tucked the drawings safely into folders, the second bell rang. A sharper chime this time, the signal for lesson two. You stood up and clapped twice in rhythm.

“Alright my champions, take your seats at the big tables, it’s time for Alphabet Parade! Grab your pencils and put your brains in superhero mode!”

The kids scurried like excited squirrels, moving to the rounded tables where you’d already laid out tracing sheets and letter blocks. You caught Chan squirming excitedly in his seat and Seungmin rolling his eyes with a sigh, but still pulling out his pencil case like the responsible genius he was. And as the music faded out and the class settled into a new rhythm of tracing letters and learning sounds, you smiled softly to yourself.

The classroom was filled with the soft sounds of pencils scratching across tracing sheets, the occasional tongue peeking out in concentration, and a chorus of kids repeating after you in singsong rhythm.

“A is for apple!”

“B is for bear!”

“C is for... chocolate chips!” someone shouted, breaking formation.

You raised a playful brow. “Technically true, Sammy. But the official answer is cat. We’ll allow the snack bonus point though.”

They giggled, going back to their lettering, tiny hands gripping chubby pencils as they traced curvy lines on the lined paper sheets you’d prepped with glittery stickers at the corners.

You moved gently around the class like a helpful shadow, crouching down next to each child.

“Hold your pencil like a duck beak, remember?” you whispered, guiding a small hand.

“That’s a perfect C, Rosie! Even your crayon agrees—it’s practically glowing.” Chan had written his name vertically down the side of his sheet and added wings to every letter. “So they can fly into people’s dreams,” he said proudly.

“Well, I hope those dreams come with snacks,” you teased. Seungmin sat quiet as ever, his work pristinely neat. Every line measured, his lowercase ‘g’ looking better than the example you printed. He didn’t smile much while working but you noticed the small crinkle near his eyes when you ruffled his hair. You took mental notes of each student’s progress, occasionally adjusting posture, offering gentle praise, or redirecting wandering hands from poking friends’ faces.

Then the bell rang. And chaos broke loose.

“SNACK TIIIIIIME!!”

“YAAAY!!”

“I HAVE COOKIES!!”

“CHOCOLATE!!”

“CAN I SHARE?!”

“Whoa—WHOA!” you clapped twice. “Pause the snack stampede!”

The kids froze, mid-celebration, eyes wide and fingers still halfway to their caddies.

You smiled sweetly but stood with teacher authority full force. “If your papers aren’t stacked, you’ll have to wait while everyone else eats.” The groans came—but so did the movement. A flurry of paper stacking began, some neater than others, but all in earnest. You helped the slower ones while humming the Pororo theme under your breath.

Once the papers were tucked into your labeled folders, you gave a regal bow. “And now, I grant you, snack privilege.” Like puppies released into a dog park, the children scurried to the cubby shelves. Lids popped. Wrappers crinkled. Juice boxes hissed.

“Ms. L/N, can you open this?”

“Ms. L/N, my sandwich is squished.”

“My banana’s brown!”

You moved gracefully between them, like a multitasking fairy, helping twist off bottle caps, gently adjusting straws, peeling tangerines, and delivering napkins like golden tickets.

“Alright, my darlings. When you’re done, remember: trash dash! Let’s show the bins how strong we are, okay?”

A few kids flexed their arms dramatically while munching crackers. One even whispered, “I’m gonna body slam the juice box.” You chuckled and went to your desk, finally sitting down with a well-earned sigh. You pulled out your snack—cut fruit and a granola bar—and exhaled. The soft hum of chatter and chewing filled the air, peaceful and warm.

Until—

“STOOOOP!”

You looked up instantly.

Chan was standing by the art shelf, arms flailing, panic on his face. A few kids were laughing.

And then you saw Seungmin. Waddling toward you. His little lip trembling, tears streaming down his cheeks, clutching his favorite dinosaur, soaked and dripping with red juice, like it had survived a strawberry flood.

Your heart clenched. You dropped your granola bar instantly and rushed over, crouching to meet him halfway.

“Oh no, baby—what happened?”

He tried to speak but only managed a hiccuped sob, burying his face against your shoulder, sticky dino pressed to your chest. Chan stormed over, fists balled. “It was Toni! Seungmin said no, but he laughed and just poured juice all over dino! He said it was ‘ugly and weird’ and then everyone laughed!” You blinked once. Then twice. And slowly stood up, holding Seungmin in one arm like he weighed nothing.

“Toni,” you called, your voice calm but firm like a judge’s gavel. “Come. Here. Now.”

The class went silent. Toni eyes darting, but he came. You leveled him with a look. Not angry. But deep. Serious. Teacher-mode fully activated.

“Why did you pour juice on Seungmin’s toy?”

“I—he—he said it was real and I was just playing—” You cut him off with a single raised hand. “No. You don’t get to ruin someone’s thing and then say it was a game.”

He looked down. “I was just—”

“Not only did you destroy something he loves, but you hurt his feelings. That’s not funny. That’s unkind. You owe him an apology. Now.”

Toni mumbled, “Sorry.”

“Louder.”

“…Sorry, Seungmin.”

You nodded. “Thank you. Now give me your snacks.”

He hesitated. You raised a brow. He handed them over.

“And now you’re on time-out until further notice. You’ll sit in the quiet corner, and we’ll talk later. Go.” He trudged away, sulking. You returned to your chair, settling Seungmin in your lap gently, his face still warm and damp. You grabbed tissues and gently wiped his cheeks, brushing hair out of his eyes.

“Poor dino,” you whispered. “We’re gonna give him a spa day, okay?”

Seungmin hiccuped a giggle through the tears. “Spa day?”

You nodded solemnly. “Full shampoo, bubble soak, the whole package.” You cradled him close, slowly rocking your body as your hand stroked his back in slow, rhythmic circles. Chan came by and offered his cookie to Seungmin wordlessly.

Seungmin took it.

Peace returned. And you held him there for a while, just rocking, the class watching quietly—learning without even realizing.

The rest of the school day passed like a winding stream, gentle and calm after the earlier storm. The children moved through lessons with better focus. Seungmin stayed close to you for the remaining sessions, his little hand occasionally brushing yours under the desk or tugging at your sleeve when he needed help. You’d give him a small smile every time and he’d shyly look away but the closeness stayed. Even Chan had dialed his energy down, casting glances over every few minutes to check on his quieter friend.

When the final lesson of the afternoon was done, and the golden bell rang out for outdoor break, the kids practically launched from their seats, lunchboxes and little toys already in hand as they raced for the door like it was the starting line of a grand prix.

You trailed behind, tidying the corners of the room, checking your clipboard, and finally making your way to the playground in the mild afternoon sun. It wasn’t long before the familiar squeals of laughter, the clatter of plastic on pavement, and the bounce of rubber balls filled the air.

Your eyes scanned the group instinctively—your mental headcount automatic.

Then you saw him.

Seungmin.

Sitting alone on the edge of the sandbox, legs folded beneath him, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. His chin was resting on his sleeve, and his eyes were watching the others without really watching. Chan was a blur near the tire swing, laughing with two other kids and running around with a flying superhero toy in one hand and a bouncy ball in the other. Classic Chan, full throttle, always orbiting the center of the fun.

But not Seungmin. You walked up gently, crouching beside him in a way that didn’t startle him, but slowly invited his attention. “Hey, my love,” you said softly, brushing some of his hair away from his face. “Why are you sitting here all by yourself?”

He shrugged at first, his eyes still trained on the playground. But then, with a small sniffle and that too-grown-up honesty he carried, he mumbled, “Chan’s playing but… I can’t go.”

“Why not, baby?” you asked, your voice warm.

He hesitated again, his eyes now fluttering down to his lap. “Dino’s ruined. He was gonna come with me today. We were gonna play explorer and spaceship… but now he’s all sticky and broken. And Chan’s using his own toys so I can’t play like we planned.”

You inhaled gently, your heart tugging again. You cupped his cheek. “I know that hurt a lot. I saw how much you love that dino.”

He nodded, small and silent. “But sweetheart, dino’s just getting some extra spa care. He’ll be back in business soon. And just because he’s taking a break doesn’t mean you have to, too.”

You stood, brushing off your knees, and raised your voice a bit—not yelling, just enough to carry. “Chan!” Your firecracker halted mid-jump, eyes darting over as he spotted you. “Yes, Ms. L/N?”

“Come here for a second, baby.”

Chan bounced over, toy still clutched in one hand. “What’s up?” You leaned down so both boys could hear you. “Seungmin’s feeling left out, and I know you’ve got plenty of toys to share. So I want you to pick one of your best ones and let him play with you, okay?”

Chan blinked. “Ohhh. Okay!” He instantly held out the superhero figurine, proud as ever. “This guy flies and makes punching sounds if you press here! You can be the hero, Minnie!”

But Seungmin didn’t reach for it. His voice was soft. “I want dino…”

You crouched again, gentle but firm. “I know, baby. But dino’s a little sticky monster right now, remember? He needs a rest. Just like we do when we cry or get too tired.”

Seungmin’s lower lip wobbled a little. You gave his knee a light tap. “So for now, I think we can try something new. Maybe pretend the superhero is helping dino on a secret mission while he’s recovering?”

Chan gasped. “Oh! Like he’s in a recovery cave! That’s what my mom calls it when I’m sick!” You smiled. “Exactly. What do you think, Seungmin?”

He looked at the toy, at Chan’s outstretched hand, and then back at you. You gave him a little nod—just enough reassurance that it was okay to let go of dino… just for a while.

“Okay…” he finally whispered.

Chan beamed and instantly grabbed Seungmin’s hand, pulling him up. “C’mon! You can name the hero! And we’ll make the recovery cave under the slide!” Seungmin followed, slower but with less weight in his shoulders. You watched as the two boys ran off, Chan’s boundless energy pulling Seungmin into orbit.

As they set up their “recovery cave” behind the slide, giggles started to bubble out of Seungmin again. Not loud—but enough. Enough to know the worst had passed.

You leaned against the fence, smiling to yourself, watching your class.

---

The sky had started to shift—soft golden hues stretching lazily across the clouds like melted butter, signaling the day’s end. The playground still echoed with laughter and the faint squeak of swings, but your internal clock knew it was time.

You clapped your hands twice in your signature rhythm. “Alright, my sweethearts! Break time’s over! Everyone come line up!”

A chorus of groans rang out like tiny thunderstorms, followed by the shuffle of reluctant sneakers. Some kids ran with speed, others dragged their feet as if they were being sent to prison, but all eventually gathered near you, giggling and whispering among themselves.

You gave them a warm smile, arms out. “Let’s head back and pack our bags, so we can go home to mommies, daddies, grannies, and all our favorite snacks, alright?”

The line of tired but happy little humans marched into the classroom with you. As you helped them one by one, you bent down to their levels, guiding tiny hands to zip up lunchboxes, helping repack crayon boxes that had exploded into bags, and making sure water bottles weren’t upside down (again).

One by one, they trickled out.

“Bye-bye, Miss L/N!”

“See you tomorrow!”

“Can we finish the rainbow puzzle next time?”

You waved at each one, crouching to give a high-five or a soft pat as they ran into their parents’ arms waiting at the doorway. The door opened again, letting in a gust of soft breeze and the tall, elegant frame of Mrs. Bang.

Her hair was pinned back neatly, her expression always that perfect balance of warmth and subtle fierceness. She scanned the room, and then her eyes softened.

“Channie-hyung!” she called, her voice sing-song, affectionate. Across the classroom, little Chan immediately froze mid-pack, then lit up like someone had flipped a switch inside him. “Omma!” he squealed, his little voice high with excitement.

He zipped his bag with uncoordinated speed, slung it over his back even though it was almost bigger than him, and skipped over to you first. “Bye, teacher!” he grinned, waving both hands. You crouched down and opened your arms. “Come here, Channie.”

He practically dove into your hug, his energy still bubbling. You kissed the top of his head and whispered, “You were such a good boy today. Thank you for helping Seungmin feel better.”

Chan beamed, dimples flashing. “I shared my superhero!”

“You did, baby. And I’m proud of you.”

He broke into a little run to his mom, who was already kneeling with her arms open wide. He flew into her with a crash, wrapping his arms around her neck and nuzzling into her coat. Mrs. Bang stood up after hugging him, straightening his bag with practiced hands before approaching you with a polite, curious smile.

“Good afternoon, Miss L/N,” she said warmly. “How was my Channie today?”

You let out a soft laugh, smoothing your hands down your dress. “He was wonderful—spirited, as always—but kind. We had a little situation with a classmate feeling down, and Chan stepped up to make him feel included.”

Her eyes softened. “That sounds like him.”

“He has a good heart,” you added, your smile gentle but honest. “He’s very bright, and full of life. You’re raising a sweetheart.” Mrs. Bang chuckled, brushing Chan’s bangs from his face. “He gets it from me,” she teased. “But also from his father, when he’s not being a stubborn goat.”

You laughed along with her, nodding knowingly. “They always are.” Mrs. Bang gave a grateful nod. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

“My pleasure,” you replied sincerely, waving at Chan again. “Bye, Channie! Rest up!”

“Bye, teacher!!” he shouted, already hopping on one foot toward the door. You stood at the entrance as more parents came in, one after the other, collecting their tiny humans. The classroom slowly emptied, the day winding down, and you exhaled softly.

The classroom had quieted down to a hum, just the rustle of paper, the occasional crinkle of snack wrappers being thrown away, and the squeak of your shoes as you moved about tidying. Most of your students had already left, and only a few little ones were still waiting, sitting in tiny chairs with sleepy eyes or scribbling on leftover coloring sheets.

At the far end of the room, Seungmin sat quietly at a table, hugging the now slightly-damp but lovingly cleaned dinosaur plushie you had placed in a small plastic bag for safety. His eyes were still a little pink, but his tiny pout had mostly faded, replaced by a quiet, clingy calm.

You glanced over every few seconds, just to check. Every time you did, Seungmin looked up and you’d give him a small smile or a little wink. He never smiled back, but that shy, grateful gaze said it all. Just then, the soft chime above the door jingled again. You turned your head, already recognizing the tall, slightly rushed but warm figure stepping into the room.

Mrs. Kim, Seungmin’s mom, with her workbag slung over her shoulder, still in her office heels, but eyes full of love.

“There’s my baby,” she sighed, her face lighting up.

Seungmin turned toward her slowly, standing from the chair but not rushing like Chan had. He just clutched his dinosaur close and walked up to her quietly.

“Seungmin-ah,” she greeted, kneeling down and opening her arms.

He finally moved faster, waddling right into her hug, his little voice muffled as he said, “Omma…”

You walked over with a soft smile, crouching beside them with the plastic-wrapped dino in hand. “Hi, Mrs. Kim,” you greeted politely. “Seungmin had a little bit of a rough patch today... there was an incident during snack time where another student spilled juice on his toy.” Mrs. Kim’s face fell as she looked down at the bag. “Oh no... not Dino.”

You nodded gently, holding it out to her. “We did a quick surface clean with safe wipes, but it might need a more thorough wash at home. He was very brave today, though. I just ask that it gets cleaned carefully, so he can have it back tomorrow if possible.”

Mrs. Kim took the bag with both hands, pressing her lips together with a soft expression. “Thank you so much for taking care of him.” You gave Seungmin a light tap on his shoulder. “He was strong—and he stayed respectful, even while upset. I’m really proud of him.”

Mrs. Kim wrapped an arm around her son, who now stood half-shielded behind her legs but still listening. “I’ll clean Dino tonight, sweetheart, okay? He’ll be good as new.”

Seungmin looked up at her, then at you, and gave a tiny nod. You winked again. “Good boy.” Mrs. Kim straightened and smiled gratefully. “You’re wonderful, thank you. He talks about you every day.”

“I’m lucky to have him in class,” you replied softly, brushing some hair behind your ear. “He’s a sweet one. A little grumpy sometimes... but in a good way.”

She laughed quietly. “That sounds like his dad.” As she took Seungmin’s hand and led him toward the door, he looked back once more and gave you a small wave.

You raised your hand and wiggled your fingers. “Bye, Seungmin. See you and Dino tomorrow!” He didn’t say anything, but his lips curled into a tiny smile before they disappeared out the door.

---

The final bell had long since faded, replaced by the chirping of distant birds outside and the occasional squeak of sneakers echoing through the now-empty hallways.

You stood near the door of your classroom, hand on the light switch, giving the room one last glance. The chairs were stacked, the little desks wiped clean, crayon boxes sorted back into bins, and the whiteboard erased except for a corner that still had a small doodle.

You smiled quietly. “Another day,” you murmured to yourself, flicking the lights off with a soft click.

Your key jingled as you locked the door behind you, taking a moment to press your hand against it. It was silly, maybe, but there was something sacred about that classroom. It was more than four walls it was a world. A tiny, loud, emotional, chaotic, heart-melting world.

As you walked through the hallway, your tote bag hit your hip with each step. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and the school was nearly silent now, save for the custodian humming a tune as he swept a corner of the lobby. You gave him a wave and a tired smile as you pushed the glass door open and stepped into the warm early evening air.

The sun was just beginning to dip, casting golden streaks across the pavement as you crossed the parking lot. Your car sat in its usual spot, dusty but reliable. You unlocked it with a beep, slid in, and let out a sigh as your back hit the seat.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You tossed your bag into the passenger seat and started the engine, the soft hum of it breaking the quiet as music spilled faintly from the speakers something mellow and familiar. You tapped the wheel absentmindedly as you drove, your mind replaying the day. Chan’s energetic hug. Seungmin’s quiet tears. That juice-covered dinosaur. Toni’s pouting time-out. Laughter during alphabet games. Snack crumbs everywhere.

And the way Seungmin looked at you when you told him you were proud of him.

Your heart softened all over again.

The drive wasn’t long, just enough for your mind to slowly unwind. And as your stomach gave a low, growling reminder, you made a detour to a nearby convenience mart. You walked through the sliding doors, grabbing a quick dinner—a warm bento, a small salad, and a bottle of banana milk because… well, you deserved a little treat after surviving alphabet madness and juice warfare.

The cashier, a quiet teenager who recognized you by now, gave you a small nod as you paid.

“Long day?” he asked. You chuckled, leaning your elbow on the counter. “The dinosaurs were harmed in the making of today’s episode.”

He blinked. “…What?”

You just winked and grabbed your bag. “Don’t worry, I’m a professional.” Back in your car, dinner on the seat beside you, you finally pulled into your apartment parking spot. The sky was fading into twilight now, casting a pinkish hue across the cityscape.

Another day survived. Another day you wouldn’t trade for anything.

You sat there for just a second longer, letting yourself breathe before heading inside.

The apartment door creaked softly as you pushed it open, your key jangling in the lock as you stepped inside, arms loaded with your bag and the little plastic bag of convenience store dinner.

Warm light spilled from the kitchen, golden and inviting, and the scent hit you immediately soy sauce, sesame oil, something sizzling and slightly spicy. Your stomach did a flip.

You barely got your shoes off before a voice floated in from the kitchen.

"Don’t tell me that’s store food." The tone was dry. Accusing. Familiar. You peeked your head in, already caught red-handed, lips tugging into a sheepish smile.

Lee Know was standing by the stove, sleeves rolled up, dish towel flung over one shoulder, brow arched in full judgment mode. His apron read “Stay hungry, not messy.” Irony.

You held up the plastic bag like a surrender flag. “I panicked. I was hungry and emotionally compromised. A dinosaur was assaulted today.”

He blinked. “...What?”

You kicked the door shut behind you and wandered in. “It’s a long story. Dino juice. Tears. A child named Toni will not be welcomed in the Kingdom of Kindness for a while.” Minho groaned as he wiped his hands and came over, taking the plastic bag from you like it was radioactive waste.

“No. Out. I made dinner. A real one.” You opened your mouth, but he was already placing the bag on the far end of the counter like he was exiling it.

“Babe—”

“Nope,” he said, popping the "p" as he turned to grab two plates, already set with spicy pork bulgogi, rice, pickled radish, and a soft rolled egg on the side. “You don’t get to eat preschool cafeteria substitute food when I spent an hour listening to music and slicing garlic with love.”

You laughed, heart melting a little as you sat down at the dining table. “Okay, okay. I surrender to your culinary dominance.”

“Damn right you do.” He smirked, placing the plate in front of you like a proud chef before grabbing his own and settling across from you. For a few minutes, it was quiet save for the clink of utensils and the soft music playing from his phone. You moaned softly around a bite of rice.

“This is so good, babe…”

Minho’s expression softened as he chewed, the little crease between his brows finally relaxing. “I know.”

But then, halfway through his bite, he pushed his chair back, stood, and rounded the table. Your eyes followed him, confused—until he slid behind your chair and leaned down.

Warm hands cupped your shoulders. Soft lips brushed your cheek first. Then a slow, lingering kiss pressed into your temple.

His voice dropped gentle, low, affectionate.

“How was your day, sweetheart?”

You leaned into his touch, letting your eyes close for just a second. The weight of the day melted beneath the heat of his hands, the press of his kiss, the steadiness in his voice.

“Long,” you whispered. “But… better now.”

He kissed your cheek one more time, then rested his chin on your head, arms loosely draped around you. “You did well today,” he murmured. “Even if you did almost betray my cooking.” You chuckled, tilting your head back slightly to glance up at him. “I’ll repent through dessert. You pick.”

He smirked. “That convenience store banana milk in your bag? Mine now.” You gasped, playfully offended, and he walked back to his seat with a wink.

Home, you thought as you watched him eat. This was home.

---

Dinner plates were cleared, chopsticks rinsed, and your boyfriend—domestic king and culinary tyrant—was now stretched out on the couch, one arm behind his head and a smug grin on his face as you packed away your folders onto the coffee table.

The clock ticked lazily toward 9PM, the glow of your desk lamp casting a soft halo over the paperwork you’d carried home. "Baby," Minho called, voice half-asleep already, "you’re still working?"

You didn’t look up, red pen in hand as you flipped through a coloring sheet that had been more crayon massacre than art. “Just a few notes… I’m prepping the alphabet activity for tomorrow. Gotta laminate the ‘letter of the day’ cards.”

"That sounds fake and exhausting," he said, deadpan.

You chuckled softly, not even disagreeing. “You wouldn’t survive a day with my kids.”

“Excuse you,” he said with mock offense, propping himself up on his elbows. “I’ve babysat Jeongin and Jisung. That’s elite-level chaos.”

You hummed, unconvinced. “Yeah, but did either of them ever cry because someone poured juice on their dinosaur plushie?”

“…Okay, point made.” You heard him shuffle up off the couch and pad into the hallway. After a few seconds, his voice called out again muffled by a toothbrush.

“Don’t stay up too long!”

“I won’t!” you replied, even though you absolutely were. Ten minutes later, Minho reappeared, now in a soft black t-shirt and grey sweats, his hair damp and freshly towel-dried. He looked like someone who was about to get eight hours of sleep and still act bitchy in the morning.

He walked over and pressed a goodnight kiss to your head. “I’m going to bed. You coming?” You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “Give me twenty. I’ll finish this and join you.”

He hovered for a second, then leaned down and whispered into your ear, “Don’t make me come back out here and carry you.”

You smirked. “Is that a threat or a promise?” He groaned and pointed at you. “Don’t tempt me, woman.” Then he disappeared down the hall, mumbling something about you being a menace with a pretty smile.

The apartment settled into a hush, just the hum of your laptop, the tick of the wall clock, and your pen sliding across tomorrow’s prep sheets.

You let out a quiet breath.

Your day had been long. Sticky fingers, crayon chaos, juice spills, tantrums, giggles, alphabet songs and glitter. But here—in the quiet hum of your home, the glow of your lamp, the knowledge that Minho was in the next room waiting—you finally felt peace.

Just one more worksheet, you told yourself.

Then bed.

Then love.

Then tomorrow.

wEl'L uSe ThE PoWeR oF FrIeNdShIp!!

Please note that this was a duo fic and so the taglists for both members were added, if your handle is repeated here, I am terribly sorry but I was wayyyy to lazy to sort and order.

@whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @pessimisticloather @alisonyus @rockstarkkami @morkleesgirl @yooingiismylove2018 @imeverycliche @katchowbbie @pixie-felix @maisyyyyyy @katyxstay @day138 @necrozica @nebugalaxy @strsforjsb @iknowyouknowminho @imagine-all-the-imagines @jc27s @igotajuicyass @jitrulyslayyed @sh0dor1 @idiotmaterial @leeknow-minho2 @btskzfav @glenda2107-blog @jeonginnieswifey @makeawitchoutofme @nikki143777 @sharnnnnnn @akindaflora @chungdol @lillymochilover @lixies-favourite-cookie @heartsbystars @idol-dream-catcher @iknow-uknow-leeknow @rachmmb @min-doesnt-know @maxidential @ebnabi @aiden2708 @burntbang @therealmrsbahng @ari-hwanggg @xxxxmoonlightxxx @rossy1080 @hanniebunch @tricky-ritz @woozarts @Zerillia @lveegsoi @queenofdumbfuckery @intartaruguinha @lorialia @btch8008s @jamroses @hhwangsmoon @pnkcasket @alix-nai @geni-627 @sspersonally @dolphin-scream-s @enhacolor @possum_playground @pinkflowerdream

@lillymochilover @imeverycliche @pessimisticloather @iknow-uknow-leeknow @burntbang @ari-hwanggg @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @alisonyus @rockstarkkami @morkleesgirl @yooingiismylove2018 @imeverycliche @katchowbbie @pixiefelix @maxidential @ @maisyyyyyy @burntbang @iknowyouknowminho @xxxxmoonlightxxx @igotajuicyass @sh0rdor1 @jitrulyslayyed @leeknow-minho2 @jeonginnieswifey @necrozica @rossy1080 @hanniebunch @tricky-ritz @woozarts @Zerillia @queenofdumbfuckery @lorialia @btch8008s @jamroses @alix-nai @geni-627 @sspersonally @possum_playground @dolphin-scream-s @enhacolor @pinkflowerdream

check out my pinned if you want to be added to my taglist!!!

~kc💗

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sleepynoons · 8 months ago

Text

ONLY BY LEE HI – jing yuan (hsr) x gn!reader, modern!au, sfw

genre – fluff, angst word count – ~2,100 warnings – mentions of emotional cheating + divorce synopsis – although it's been years since your divorce, some part of you is still afraid to be in a relationship again. what does it actually mean to love someone, and are you capable of it?

The atmosphere and the situation you’re in are jarring, dissonant, mildly uncomfortable, as if two disjoint parts of your life are colliding. And you’re not that far off the mark – it’s definitely a rare occurrence for a sole employee to be having dinner with their boss. In fact, throughout all of your years working under the same man, you can’t remember a single time the two of you were alone, aside from check-in meetings and project discussions, but those interactions don’t really count because they were all in the office.

You can’t even bring yourself to sip from your beer mug, frosted from condensation, golden bubbles sizzling to the surface and reflecting the glaring lights hanging from the ceiling. You can only watch with a tamed face and bated breath as your boss, in all his suited and charismatic glory, rattles off a list of menu items to the waiter.

“Is that enough?”

Your boss turns around, gleaming silver ponytail swishing behind him, so that he’s fully facing you when he asks his question.

You simply nod, at which the waiter takes his leave.

Now that there’s only the two of you, you wonder how awkward this dinner will turn out to be. You’re not the most vocal, and even if you were, you don’t particularly care for or have the talent to come up with small talk. But it seems that worry's speedily addressed because your boss, with his large hands yet stealthy fingers, hums as he begins to pick away at the pickled vegetables and roasted peanuts with his chopsticks.

He just munches and snacks, until there’s none left in his dishes, and you push your small plates towards him.

“Are you sure you don’t want any?”

You shake your head, and with a delighted chirp of thanks, he quickly chows through your portions as well.

Compared to your quiet booth, the rest of the restaurant is boisterous and rowdy. You can hear the karaoke rooms at the back, drunken singing and screaming bleeding through wooden walls, and the parties sitting around – families, couples, friend groups – are cracking jokes, nagging at each other about table manners, dropping utensils. Clearly, this place is more suited for celebratory events or just a good time, but definitely not for business operations.

The comedy of your current circumstances only compounds. Actually, upon reflection, it's hitting you that this last week of your life has been laughable in a pitiable, disorienting way.

Around this same time last week, your boss had called for an emergency team meeting before everyone clocked out, none other than to ask for a volunteer to accompany him on a last-minute business trip and work overtime during Christmas. Of course, no one, including yourself, wanted to, especially given the risk of the trip being extended due to the weather. However, unlike your coworkers, you didn’t have an excuse other than the fact that you wanted to stay home, eat junk food, and binge-watch dramas. After all, they all had romantic dates to go on or family gatherings to attend to, and you didn't, especially after your divorce.

You could feel the side glances, the shuffling of feet, the unanimous holding of breaths in the conference room, and you waited for three more long, torturous seconds before you finally sighed and raised your hand to opt for the position. The only good thing that came out of that was your boss' gleaming smile, solely directed to you.

You bitterly complained about the meeting to your work friend afterwards.

“We don't usually eat on my floor. What's going on?”

You looked over your shoulder to see your work friend, Fu Xuan, walk over and take a seat beside you, setting down her lunch box and a plastic bottle of green tea onto the table.

You glanced around, making sure no one else was present. When the coast seemed clear, you leaned close to her ear.

You muttered, “Just tired of all the talk going around. Can’t have any privacy over there.”

Fu Xuan huffed and crossed her arms. “You can say that again. I was already on my way to your office when I heard the gossip from your break room.”

“What are they saying?”

“Probably the same things you’re hearing.”

You slumped into your seat, resting your elbows and forehead on the cool surface of the table. Fu Xuan’s hand came to pat you on the back.

“Is it so bad to be divorced?” you grumbled.

Fu Xuan sighed. “Not at all,” she affirmed, “especially in your case.”

Fu Xuan’s the only person in the office that you would consider a friend, so naturally, she’s the only one who knows some of the details regarding your last relationship.

“You did what you had to do,” Fu Xuan continued. “It was the right decision.”

“I know,” you groaned. “I just still feel guilty, and everyone’s still throwing a pity party, and it's not helpful because I've been feeling like a complete loser.”

“They’re being ridiculous. It's been, what? Two years at this point?Besides, doesn’t this work out in your favor?”

You shot her a pointed glare. She simply harrumphed in response.

“Fu Xuan, nothing’s going to happen. I’ve been working here for years, and nothing has happened.”

“Only because you were married for most of said years.”

“Still. Nothing has happened since the divorce.”

“Alright, you’re being ridiculous, too,” Fu Xuan concluded.

You hissed, lunging at her. “I’m the one being ridiculous? You’re here, trying to delude me!"

Fu Xuan skillfully dodged your attempt, and instead, managed to grab your face in place so that the two of you were glaring eye to glaring eye. "I'm not," she insists. "In the few meetings I've been in with him, he always finds a way to bring you up, and don't get me started on the look on his face when he talks about you. Also, didn't you tell me he dropped off some medicine at your place that one time you were sick?"

You shook your head. "He just does all that because I do good work, instead of giving him more things to worry about."

“Either way,” Fu Xuan gritted through a thin smile, “enjoy your trip with your boss. Merry early Christmas, you fool.”

Upon reflection, you begrudgingly have to admit that you agree with your friend on several fronts.

Yes, your coworkers are being dramatically awkward, and yes, this business trip can probably fuel a lifetime of daydreams about your boss.

But sometimes, you're not sure if you're over your divorce yourself.

You separated from your partner because they were emotionally cheating on you. They had never really realized it themself, but you could tell they were meeting the same colleague every few weeks or so with feelings and intentions that extended beyond platonic.

To be fair, you can’t really bring yourself to blame your ex either. You’ve always had a more reserved and conservative nature, so it’s not easy for you to say or do anything affectionate. Your ex had always seemed fine with it, and never once brought it up as a concern when the two of you decided to get married for the sake of it. But upon reflection, there had always been some distance, some measured level of politeness, between the two of you, and it only grew as you were promoted in work and, thus, spent more time in the office. Even on days off, you barely spent time together, not when you were busy recuperating sleep and energy. Needless to say, you were quite absent in your marriage, and you can’t fault your partner for seeking comfort in another person.

You put an end to it, for both of your sakes. But ever since, you’ve questioned whether you’ve truly experienced love – if you’re even capable of loving someone at all.

In fact, saying you loved your ex feels… off. You definitely cherished and cared for them as a person, but if someone asked you why you loved your partner at the time, you would have trouble coming up with an answer. Maybe your ability to love is only limited to that.

Still, what’s making you think otherwise is…

The clattering of ceramic plates against the tabletop jolts you from your reminiscence. All of the dishes your boss had ordered have arrived, and you can barely make out his face from all of the rising steam.

“Don’t hold back! My treat, for all of your hard work,” he encourages.

You shake your head, replying, “Not at all,” and you watch as your boss swallows a mouthful of piping hot white rice and scoops spoonfuls of boiled tofu and pork onto his plate.

Honestly, you could get full just from watching him eat. More than that, you think you’d even give him all of your own portions if it meant that he could continue to eat so happily and cheerily.

And that’s exactly the thing. This… crush? Infatuation? Love?

Is this love? Because if it is, it feels so different – far more consuming and overwhelming – from even the faintest rushes of adrenaline and excitement you experienced from your ex. And you’re having these emotions for your boss, of all people.

You can’t lie to yourself for much longer. You know the real reason why you didn’t want to go on this business trip.

It’s inappropriate to date in the office. It’s risky to have to deal with power dynamics. It’s stressful to find new jobs, if you two started to date. Wait, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

You take a bite here and there, to mimic a performance of actually gorging yourself, but your eyes are trained on him. As the steam dissipates, you notice the slight beads of sweat forming at his temple, the flick of his tongue as he licks his glossy lips, and the reddening of his cheeks from the spice and heat.

You knew this trip would break down all sense of self-control.

It’s hard to maintain discipline when, for the past 72 hours, your heart has been tortured to its limits. You saw him when he was sleeping on the five-hour bullet trains to and from your destination. You helped him adjust his tie when you noticed it was astray, which required you to lean in close enough to smell the lingering scent of his cologne. The two of you were even mistaken for a couple by a barista, which neither of you denied because the coffee shop was running a Christmas discount for couples and families. He even called to wake you up from your nap, voice barely more than a deep purr, gentle and teasing and lilting, and you still think that was the best wake-up call, literally, in your life.

If anything, it’d be ridiculous if your defenses weren’t so worn down already, and you know you don’t have that kind of mental strength in the first place, no matter how stoic your exterior might appear.

You don’t even look away when he catches you staring. With a tilt of his head, he asks if you’re alright, at which you nod again, but there’s no way he doesn’t see you gulp.

If these feelings, in all of their riveting, painful, confusing glory, are love, you never want to have them for anyone else ever again.

The rest of the dinner proceeds the same, but it’s midnight by the time the two of you finish.

“Good night, Boss,” you say as you give a small bow.

You had expected him to dismiss you with a laidback wave, but instead, he says, “Wait.”

You quirk an eyebrow, and he chuckles. “It’s late. I can’t have one of my most senior employees getting kidnapped.”

“I’m no child, Boss.”

Regardless of your reservations, he proceeds to call a cab, with the first stop being your place. As soon as the car reaches the front of your apartment complex, you hop out.

But it seems your boss is subverting all of your expectations of him and his character tonight.

He gets out as well, telling the driver to give him a minute or two, and walks over to you.

“Boss, you don’t have to wait for me. The entrance is right there.”

He laughs, broad shoulders jumping a little. “It’s not for that.”

He unravels the red scarf wrapped around his neck and leans forward, beginning to wind the wool and cashmere around you instead.

It’s so late. You’re so tired. You don’t have energy to put up any pretenses.

For the first time, you lose your cool in front of your boss. You’re a flustering, bumbling mess, taking clumsy steps backwards, to no avail because he’s holding you hostage with the scarf.

“It’s cold – what are you – I don’t need –“

“A belated merry Christmas,” he mumbles with a small smile. Instead of its usual brilliance, though, it’s gentle and soft, as fragile and fleeting as snow. “For a very special someone,” he finishes.

He leans back once he’s done. You glance down, hands coming up to grip at the thick cloth. “But Boss…,” you mumble, a little muffled, “I didn’t get you anything.”

“No, no, you already did.”

“What?”

But he’s already rounding his way back. You don’t move from your spot, watching as the car pulls away and as your boss turns around, giving you his signature lackadaisical wave through the rear window, before he’s out of sight.

Mouth agape, you look back down at the scarf, only then noticing a small gold embroidering at one end of it.

Jing Yuan, it reads.

You can't resist the urge to bury your face into the plush and warmth of the scarf.

Without a doubt, you’re in love with your boss, Jing Yuan.

winter event masterlist

#honkai star rail #honkai sr #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail fluff #hsr fluff #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan fluff #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan hsr #honkai star rail jing yuan #jing yuan honkai star rail #carrot cake!#house of solis occasum #nereids' realm

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rxzennia · 1 year ago

Text

picky eater

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 leviathan? dog under the table! avvy, won’t you come home in 18 hours 30 minutes? final tribute to you before your release <3

aventurine shows up in your office without knocking, as he often does. you look up from your work, raising a brow – you’ve gotten so used to him doing this that you’ve given up asking him what he wants altogether.

“what, i can’t even visit my own secretary?” he teases, trotting up to your desk and setting down a delicate bag of… something. “lunch, my dear, lunch. you skipped it again, didn’t you?”

you ignore his pet name for you and stare at the bag, then at him, then back at the bag

it’s quite endearing how he tries to make sure you eat regularly

even though your composition doesn’t quite need you to eat the way other people do

not that you can’t, you just don’t really need to, so you don’t

it’s just less effort for you and more efficiency

but who are you to deny your boss’s goodwill?

“thank you,” you say, giving the entire bag a quick sniff. “the usual?”

“the usual.” he confirms

more like if he gets anything else there’s quite a high chance that you won’t like it

he’s realized that you’re picky as hell

even though you literally eat monsters for fun

okay, maybe not for fun

his point still stands, though

when it comes to your taste buds they’re the most hard to please things ever

it’s okay, someday he’ll find your favorite foods

in the meantime he’ll keep getting you stuff he knows you’ll eat

this information is obtained through trial and error, by the way

read: a lot of trials and a lot of errors. mostly errors

you flash him a small smile under your scarf

he doesn’t miss it; he’s known how to read your expressions by the changes in your eyes now

you set your papers aside and carefully put the few boxes of takeout on your desk

you have limited space on your desk because of the way you set it up

you don’t like big, wide spaces

when you finally pull down your scarf, aventurine’s entire person lights up with joy.

“what?” you ask, because he looks like that every time he sees your face.

“nothing,” aventurine chuckles, “just thinking about how you used to kick me out whenever you had to take off your scarf.”

you look at him from the corner of your eyes, your spoonful of rice half-raised

you are unimpressed

“would you like me to kick you out?” you offer very kindly

so cold

but he knows you’re not actually going to kick him out

still. so cold.

“hey, i brought you food!” he whines

you nod in agreement. “and i said thank you.”

why are you like this

please, as much as he loves these back-and-forths with you, have some mercy

then again the sight of you eating well is really heartwarming

plus the fact that he’s the one who's treating you

worth it 10/10

you’re using utensils like everyone else, but somehow you still eat really quickly?

what in the sorcery

you finish the contents in the boxes that smell familiar

the trustworthy boxes™

and that leaves you with… one delicate little box

it smells… ominous. like a crime against your tongue.

you look at aventurine with doubt in your eyes. what is he trying to feed you this time?

“cake,” he says, “i asked around for the best cafe in town.”

“you asked topaz.” you slowly take off the ribbon and open the box.

ouch, must you be so truthful?

because who else is he supposed to go to for these things?

it’s not like he can just ask anyone!

and he really wants to know your preference towards sweet things

you’ll eat very, very lightly sweetened things

but what about proper dessert?

you’re gentle towards the box; you’re staring at the canary-shaped cake

more examining than staring, actually

seems like you appreciate intricately decorated things

he’s making a mental list of things you like and don’t like

even though you’re not very cooperative with him on this

c’mon, he wants to know everything about you! he wants to treat you right! let him!!!

(you do not know of the existence of such a list)

you pick up the mini cake and sniff it

pokes it with your tongue when you think it passes your sniff test

sweet, but nothing too bad so far

time to take it further

you try a tiny bite in the corner

your senses get assaulted by sugar, if that even makes sense

no. 0/10 would not recommend.

but you keep your face blank so as to not be blatantly obvious

“hmm.” you set the pastry down on your desk like you’re deep in thought.

“how is it? you like it?” aventurine awaits your answer eagerly, watching you closely. a little too closely, to be honest.

“please do not ever visit that store for cakes again.” you say, getting a spoonful of the unbitten side and offering it to your boss. “mm.”

you’re telling him to try it?

the way you’re asking is so adorable

not even words, just a little hum and a small wave of the spoon

he does have a try of the cake

and have you feed him while he’s at it

very happy right now

would be better if the cake wasn’t sugared like it’s a day’s calories concentrate

he understands your response now

trying his best to not cringe

also knows to never ask topaz for dessert recommendations again

“if you don’t like it, let’s just toss it out,” he suggests, because he wouldn’t be able to stomach that either

you got this from him

territorial snake moment when he tries to take it from your hands

you hiss

jumpscare, he did not expect that

also oddly happy that you’re protective of the stuff he gives you

also concerned

“you’re not going to force yourself to eat that, are you…?”

“what are you saying, of course not,” you say, setting the barely-eaten canary cake on your desk all the while keeping aventurine’s hands away from it.

then your scarf comes and swallows the thing in one gulp.

what.

“it…” aventurine points a shaky finger at the white fabric that morphed into a faceless serpent’s head at the ends. “it ate it? just like that?”

“if it can swallow monsters whole, it can eat an overly sweet cake.” you shrug, finally wiping your mouth and pulling your scarf back up.

aventurine’s jaw would be on the floor if it was physically possible. unfortunately, it isn’t. “i thought you could still taste when your scarf eats things?”

“monsters.” you reply, patting your scarf as it settles into a regular piece of cloth again, “it tastes monsters. not food.”

so that's how you managed to finish even the things you absolutely hate? by having your scarf eat it?

aeons, there’s still so much he has yet to learn about you, isn't there?

#honkai star rail #aventurine #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #ares's voracity pathstrider tales

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veebeeboo109 · 6 months ago

Text

Cleaning up the Timeline

{You meet the last two members of the house and negotiate the contract with Zayne. Also, Rafayel is...observant.}

Read on ao3.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance, Maid AU, Eventual Smut. SFW (For now)

Chapter 3: Negotiating

You find a supply closet on the main floor near the stairwell and are relieved to see a good stock of cleaning supplies and tools. Retrieving a broom, you decide to make yourself useful until Zayne gets back.

With one earbud in, you listen to some music while you sweep the living area, reaching into the deep corners and underneath the furniture. It’s peaceful, and the nagging fatigue that kept trying to lure into napping was momentarily forgotten.

The sun was beginning to set when the elevator dinged, just loud enough to draw your attention from where you were reaching as far as you can underneath the huge coffee table. The soft rug presses into the side of your face as you reach for what looks like a crumpled can.

“Y/N?” Your name makes you pause in your pursuit of that can and sit up onto your knees.

Zayne is wearing his beige coat and you can see the edge of his lab coat and his medical badge peeking out from underneath it.

He has white bags in one hand and the scent of savory takeout quickly fills the room.

“Hey!” You greet cheerily, relieved to see a familiar face, “I was just tidying up. There’s a can stuck underneath that I can’t reach.”

You return to your quest and hear Zayne’s heavy sigh.

“You said you would take a day.” He mumbles as he walks over to the kitchen and places the food onto the counter.

“And I got bored,” You reply, speaking louder so that he can hear with your voice muffled.

“Come on,” You hear him call, his smooth voice cool but not demanding.

Your fingertips graze the can once, but only manages to push it further away. Zayne says something else, but you don’t hear him.

A touch at your lower back makes you shiver. Cold fingertips grazing the hem of your shirt. Innocently trying to draw your attention but unknowingly edging into the slightly exposed skin of your lower back.

You inhale sharply and sit up, finding Zayne standing over you with a stern look in his eyes.

“I brought food.” He tells you like he didn’t just strum a chord in your spine. “Have you eaten since lunch?”

You recall the sorry state of his fridge and shake your head. Standing, you fix your shirt and place your hands on your hips, “You’re not exactly stocked up. Did the other housekeepers do the shopping?”

Zayne’s jaw ticks and he nods, “Yes. I was thinking about the arrangement while I was working and I think we should set some rules.”

You laugh as you take a seat at one of the barstools, “Oh trust me, I got the rundown from one of your roommates on some of the rules.”

Zayne blinks in surprise, “Who?”

“Rafayel.” You reply, “I have to be honest Zayne, I have no idea how he expects me to clean the studio if I can’t touch anything.”

“He’s…particular about his work.” Zayne says as he begins to unpack the takeup. More than a dozen little boxes laid out and fives sets of disposable silverware set next to it. “I’ll talk to him.”

Zayne examines each box and then finds one he seems to be looking for, sitting it front of you and offering a set of utensils. You take the white box and open it, surprised to see one of your favorite takeout dishes. Steaming hot and delicious.

“Thank you.” You say with a bright smile, “Should we wait for the others or do you eat alone?”

“Today we’ll eat alone.” Zayne says as he finds his own box. “You’ll see them more often in the evening. Dinner is sometimes a communal affair.”

You can’t help but feel affectionate at the idea, but then bitter resentment tries to swallow you whole. You miss family dinners. Sitting together over something homemade and chatting until the food gets cold.

Why did Zayne get that? Why did everyone else get that except for you?

You squash that nasty train of thought, and force a smile, “That sounds nice.”

Zayne sheds his coat and scarf and sits down next to you. From within he coat he retrieved a few papers and sets them on the counter before tossing the coat onto the chair next to him.

“This is the contract we signed with the last housekeeper,” He explained, sliding one of the papers to you. “It lays out working days, which rooms to clean. Grocery budget and other things. But–” He pauses and slides the other paper to you, “Since you’re not represented by an agency, I wanted to make sure you were given proper compensation.”

You don’t answer with a mouth full of food and instead examine the difference between the contracts. The old one seems pretty standard. Three days a week and what’s to be cleaned each day. Which day to order groceries and the budget allotted for it. It listed who and when inspection of work would be done, and how much would be paid a week for the work.

The new one was longer. It stated the same expectations but listed only two days working. The areas to be cleaned was shorter and the grocery budget higher. The inspections would be done only once a month and the weekly pay twice as much as the last.

“Zayne,” You tone is chastising, “This is ridiculous.”

“Is it not enough?” He says quickly, pulling the revised contract from your hands and examining it for typos. “We can negotiate, of course.”

“You barely have me doing anything with that contract. And where’s the part where I pay you back?” You argue, stabbing your fork into your partially eaten takeout, “And the pay should be cut because you’re also housing me. That’s more on your utility bill, my pay should be cut to cover it.”

Zayne’s brow crease and his lips purse– eyes glaring at the contract.

“Plus I’ll never be able to keep this place clean if I only work two days a week.” You sit up, taking on as authoritative a tone as you can, “I should be working six days if I’m living here. Sundays off. I can keep all the common spaces clean and do the shopping on Saturdays. You should inspect everything at least twice a week to make sure I’m keeping standards, and the pay should reflect the median wage for this position minus lodgings.”

Zayne’s shoulders deflate, “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I am not.” You argue petulantly, “I’m being practical. Don’t go easy on me, Zayne. I did this to myself.”

HE closes his eyes, takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Fine. Alright.” From his shirt pocket he pulls out a pen and hands it to you. “Write down what you think is reasonable, and we’ll go from there.”

You smile and take the pen, “Thank you Zayne.”

“You punishing yourself unnecessarily, but if you insist on it…” Zayne turned back to his food and began to pick at it. Suddenly remembering something he turns back to you, “There should be stipulations for if you wish to cease the contract or if circumstances change.”

You nod in agreement, “Sure. We can put like.” Your voice drifts off as you turn the page over and find the open space at the bottom, “If I end the contract, I will owe…”

“No, not that.” Zayne sighs, “Put that you are allowed to terminate the contract for any reason, be it professional or personal with no repercussions– financial or otherwise.”

“That lenient.” You mumble as you quickly pen it in. “Would you put that in for some other housekeeper?”

“You aren’t some other housekeeper.”

The warmth in his voice rivals the richness of the hot chocolate you’d drank yesterday. Thick and decadent, but quiet like he was reluctant to reveal such a precious secret.

You glance at him and continue to alter the contract until you're satisfied. Zayne argues with the number you write down for your wage, and eventually you find something neither of you are happy with but can live with. A tenuous compromise.

You sign the bottom and Zayne does the same.

The food tastes a little bit better now that that’s settled.

The elevator dings and footsteps tap in approach. You and Zayne turn and you blink in surprise. You recognize his face, and you nearly squeak as he freezes– halfway between the foyer and the kitchen.

“Xavier,” Zayne greets the soft blond man with a gentle nod, “This is Y/N, she’s going to be staying here for the foreseeable future.”

Xavier clears his throat and approaches. His white hunter’s uniform dirt along the edges and some soot covers his right shoulder.

“It’s nice to meet you,” You greet with a smile, jumping down from the barstool and offering your hand, “Though, have we met before? Your face is familiar.”

You see the muscles in Xavier’s neck work as he swallows and his gloved hand takes yours in a chaste hold, squeezing once without shaking before letting you go. His sapphire eyes don’t linger on your face, and you feel suddenly self-conscious.

“Ah, perhaps we’ve crossed paths at the Hunter’s association.” Xavier’s voice is like soft goosefeather down. The most plush and cushioned tone that settles like a luxurious fur coat on your shoulders. You fight the shiver that rises up your spine at the sound of it, and your mind supplies for sensations of deja vu.

“Right. Probably.” You reply, returning to your barstool and your food.

Xavier rounds the side of the counter and goes to the fridge, pulling out the orange juice and pouring himself a glass.

Zayne leans over the counter to find three different boxes and sets them aside, “I got your usual order.”

Xavier nods and a small smile appears on his face, “Thanks. I’m going to shower before eating.”

Zayne just nods, but as Xavier passes by there this look. A sort of exchange of information in a language you don’t understand. Some subliminal nod between gentlemen or perhaps some new greeting?

You finish your meal and continue chatting amicably with Zayne until Xavier returns. He looks like he was carved from powdered sugar and marble, the softness of his light colored all the more striking without soot to darken them.

“Y/N is going to be the housekeeper.” Zayne informs the blond as he sits on the other side of you.

Xavier looks at Zayne like he’s insane, brow furrowed and upper lift slightly lifted. “Seriously?”

Your heart sinks like a stone in your chest.

“Rafayel has already met her, and made his…rules clear.” Zayne says, “Did you have anything to add?”

The bitterness in Xavier’s expression faded after a moment and he turned his attention to his food, “Not really.”

You lick your lips and try to find something amicable to say, “I’ll try my best to stay out of your way. Rafayel let me know to be careful with his studio, did you have anything I should be careful with?”

Xavier slurped at some noodles and kept his eyes down, “I have books in my room. Don’t move them.”

You nod a few times, appeased that he, at the very least is speaking to you, “Alright. I can do that.”

Zayne hummed from your left and nudged you softly with his knee.

“Oh,” You remark as your brain returns to you, “I was going to ask if you wanted me to cook too?”

“You want to cook?” Xavier’s voice drawls from your right.

“If you’d like me to,” You reply, “I’m no five-star chef but I enjoy cooking. And I have a sneaky suspicion you guys eat too much takeout.”

“That’s not ne-” Zayne’s sentence stops at the look you shoot at him. A stern glare that dares him to try and coddle you again. He exhales in defeat, “A few times a week couldn’t hurt.”

You finish your meal and go to clean up your food while the other two continue to eat. Deciding to tackle the dishes while they chat, you go to the sink and search for a sponge. You find a dish brush and soap underneath the sink and get to work. It’s not hard with the dishwasher unused and empty to your right so you fill it.

Zayne finishes his food and sets it aside and returns to the contract, reading it over when the elevator dings again. You hardly hear it with the sound of the running water in front of you, but you do notice the change in the room.

You look up in time to see a statue of a man enter the room– his white silver hair fluffy but sharp. Dark black and burgundy makes up the entirety of his look, with a well cut suit jacket hanging from his shoulders.

“You’re back early.” Xavier notes with a harsh bite to his tone.

Rafayel was intimidating like a shark in the water. Something that can swim faster and stronger than you can. Xavier was intimidating like space. Void of air and warmth.

This man was intimidating like a beast of lore was. Something beyond the comprehension of man, and only formed from imaginations and nightmares.

“Disappointed?” The man mused, thick like fine wine and tinged with the rumbling of a growl. His expensive leather oxfords tapped against the wood floor as he strutted over to the kitchen counter, perusing the takeout for his. As he passes by Zayne, he reaches out, placing his wide hand at the back of Zayne’s neck and squeezing in greeting.

Stunned by that, you turned off the water and began to dry your hands, unknowingly drawing his attention. Like a predator hearing a twig snap in the forest, his eyes snap to you and a small smirk quirks his lips.

“What’s this?” He asks, clearly not speaking to you.

“This is Y/N.” Zayne explains once again, “She’s going to be the new housekeeper.”

“ Oh,” The man croons, walking over around the island with the sink to tower over you, “A pleasure to meet you. The name’s Sylus.”

“N-nice to meet you,” You silently curse your stuttering voice, “Sylus.”

He hums when you say his name, backing off out of your space and grabbing his takeout. As quickly as he’d come, he’s walking away, “I’ll be downstairs.”

As his presence grows further away, you feel the ability to breathe return to you. Your face is red and your heart is racing, and what for? Why did he, of all of them, make you feel like you were suddenly game for a hunt?

“That’s the last of them, yeah?” You ask Zayne after a moment.

Zayne chuckles and nods, “Yeah, that’s it.”

Later, Zayne explains that Rafayel often gets caught up in a creative zone and doesn’t come down to eat until much later. Xavier gives Zayne a quiet thanks for the food before leaving, and Zayne makes sure you’re settled before he excuses himself for bed.

You linger in the kitchen for a moment, cleaning up the remnants of the take out. Zayne’s portion is already gone, the meticulous doctor already cleaning up after himself. Xavier only left behind a few napkins in his wake, which was better than the full mess you expected him to leave you with.

First impression? Rafayel would likely prod you and push you until you broke. Xavier likely didn’t like you and would avoid you as much as he could. Zayne was…Zayne. He’d be busy at the hospital most of the time, but would likely still find time for you. Sylus was scary and lived on the bottom floor like a goblin, which seemed fitting. Hopefully your run ins with him were minimal.

The boxes of Rafayel’s order remained on the counter and before you scaled the stairs to head to bed you picked them up. Maybe a peace offering?

You head back to his studio and knock before entering. A muffled response calls back and you enter, finding him laying on the long couch with a sketchbook over his face.

Lingering by the door, you hold the two boxes of food close to you, hoping to retain their heat. “I brought your food up. I thought you might like to eat here?”

Rafayel lifts the sketchbook and peeks at you, seeming to forget you existed. He sighs and waves his hand for you to approach. You cross the room and find a small portion of the side table to place the food on.

“It’s late and I’m heading to bed.” You tell him, “It was nice to meet you.”

You turn and he doesn’t stop you, letting you leave the room as quickly as you’d come. You were eager to get started, though this certainly wasn’t the job you’d pick for yourself, you weren’t about to slack off.

You’d been in such a daze since– For a while. Nothing really felt real anymore. Nothing felt important. Maybe this peculiar circumstance was just bizarre enough to knock some sense back into you. As you readied for bed, setting up the few photo frames on the bedside tables, you hoped so.

After you left, Rafayel sighed. Eyes stuck on the little takeout boxes you’d brought him. Glaring at them like they were messenger birds bringing news of his incoming doom.

It couldn’t be. Could it? No. No that was…. Rafayel huffed and tossed his sketchbook aside. His stomach was turning in knots and his skin felt hot.

A part of him wanted to go to the others, confirming the suspicions curling around his spine like a choking boa. If he noticed it, then the others did too. Maybe not Zayne…poor guy, but certainly Sylus. And most definitely Xavier.

But it felt too good to be true, and so Rafayel didn’t trust it. A sweet treat hanging from a thread, bait at the end of a silver hook meant to trick him and lay him out for slaughter.

It didn’t matter who you looked like. What you felt like. What you smelled like… He’d deny the messages his senses were telling him to preserve his sanity. To preserve the tenuous peace and happiness he’d found here. He wouldn’t voice aloud his suspicions in case he was wrong and get everyone’s hopes up for nothing.

<- Previous Next->

#love and deepspace #lads #lads mc #lads x reader #lads sylus #lads zayne #lads rafayel #lads oc #lads xavier #lads caleb #lads fanfic #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader

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sergeantsporks · 1 month ago

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Dadrius Week 2025 Day 1: Lost

Thump

Thud

Scraaaaaaaape

Thump.

Darius put in a pair of earplugs. Had Hunter always been so loud? He could have sworn his mornings had been quiet until now. His daily tea ritual usually went undisturbed.

Thud

Slam

Darius reinforced his earplugs with abomination earmuffs, putting the kettle on the stove and taking down his teacup. He browsed his shelf of tea boxes, examining each label as if he didn’t already have them all memorized. Jasmine tea? Maybe mint. How was he looking to start his morning?

Darius felt a light touch on his elbow and jumped, knocking a drawer askew. His abomination earmuffs vanished in a blink, taking his earplugs with them.

“Sorry,” Hunter said casually, “I just wanted to ask—have you seen a box about this large?” He held his hands a foot apart, modeling up and down. “Made with very thick wood. I was supposed to take it to Dell’s. We’re working on some detailing, but…”

“Haven’t seen it. Perhaps you left it with him. Or at Hexside.”

“Mm.” Hunter heaved a small, distressed sigh. “Let me know if you see it? I’ve got to go.”

Darius tipped his teacup in response, already focused on his whistling kettle. Lavender tea. To settle his nerves. Darius poured the water, watching the ripples surge and then eventually fade out. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Deep breath in… deep breath—hang on, hadn’t he seen that box in the laundry room?

Darius wandered into the laundry room, opening and shutting cabinets. Thud. Slam. No, he hadn’t, or if he had, it had been moved since. Darius returned to the kitchen, watching the color slowly spread throughout the water. Deep breath in… deep breath out. Deep breath in…

Maybe he’d left it on the cabinet by the door, planning to snatch it on his way out before forgetting. Darius left his tea once again to check. No, not there, either. He likely had just left it with Dell. Back to the kitchen. Deep breath in… deep breath out. Deep breath in… deep breath… hang on.

Darius walked up the stairs, this time going straight to Hunter’s room. His library bag sat on the floor, and Darius carefully emptied the books, putting them up on Hunter’s desk. Yes, there it was. He’d forgotten to transfer his project from his book bag to his flyer derby bag.

Darius shook his head. Hunter was getting sloppy. But then, hadn’t he, as a teen? He could recall enough times that his parent had run his lunch, or a forgotten textbook up to school. And hadn’t Hunter lost enough time as a teenager? Maybe this was just finally normal.

Still, though. It was also normal, he thought, for adults to enforce some responsibility. He’d talk to Hunter about packing up for the day the night before so that he wasn’t scrambling in the morning. And certainly also so that Darius wouldn’t interrupt his tea ritual looking for lost items.

Satisfied with his plan, Darius turned the box over in his hands. It was surprisingly heavy, and opening the lid, Darius could see that the material was thick, leaving less room on the inside than the outside would imply. Made sense. Hunter would be carving it down.

Darius set the box down on the kitchen table, picking up his tea. Hopefully, he hadn’t left it steeping too long. He carefully drained the tea bag and threw it away, sitting down at the table and trying to clear his mind a little more with every sip of tea. Tucking away clutter and random thoughts as if they were utensils left out in the kitchen. He’d missed this ritual in the keep, where there’d never been enough time.

Should he return the box now?

Darius pushed the thought back. Relaxation time. Tea time. He could worry about it later.

But Hunter would be worrying about his box now.

Darius set down his tea with a sigh. Fine, he told the little voice in his head, maybe he should let Hunter sweat about it for a bit. Maybe he’d remember it next time if he worried about it today. Natural consequences.

Wait. Was that the plan of a crueler coven head? Or was it a reasonable idea for teaching responsibility? Why wasn’t there a book or a guide to these sorts of answers? And more importantly, why was he overthinking this more than he had his entire rebellion against the government?

Darius rubbed his temples, inhaling the steam from his tea. Deep breath in… deep breath out. The lavender scent filled his nostrils and slowly, slowly he managed to coax his mind back into calm silence. He’d return the box before Hunter went to Dell. But there was no use interrupting Hunter’s school day. After school, then. During flyer derby practice. Yes. Fine. There. A plan.

Darius slowly stretched, picking up his tea. Deep breath in… Deep breath out.

#toh #the owl house #darius deamonne #hunter deamonne #dadrius #dadrius week 2025 #day 1: lost #toh fanfiction #my writing #toh hunter #toh darius

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u10sils · 30 days ago

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navelynay · 11 months ago

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Play Date

Little SaMo CG Nahyo

Momo had been trudging around the apartment, the fluff of her stuffy brushing against the floor as she dragged it behind her. Her little face was etched with a pout, her eyes longing for something.

Nayeon observed her from the kitchen, her heart tugging at the sight of the usually bubbly Momo looking so glum. "Hey, Mo, what's wrong?" she asked gently.

Momo looked up and gazed at Nayeon with big, doe-like eyes. "I miss Sana," she murmured softly, her voice filled with longing.

Nayeon's eyes softened as she realized the cause of her little ones sadness. "You miss Sana? How about we have a playdate with her? Would you like that?"

Momo's eyes lit up like twinkling stars, and she nodded vigorously, her pout instantly transforming into a bright smile. "Yes, yes, yes! I want to play with Sana!"

Nayeon chuckled and ruffled Momo's hair. "Alright, let's call Jihyo and set it up. I'm sure Sana misses you too."

With that, Nayeon picked up the phone and dialed Jihyo's number, eagerly discussing the playdate arrangements while Momo danced around the living room, her giggles floating through the air like musical notes.

When the day of the playdate arrived, Momo's excitement was palpable as she waited for Sana to arrive.

As soon as the doorbell rang, she dashed to the door, her stuffy forgotten on the couch.

"Sana!" Momo squealed as she flung herself into a hug, the two littles giggling and twirling around in the hallway.

"Momo!" Sana exclaimed with equal delight, her eyes sparkling.

Nayeon and Jihyo exchanged smiles as they watched the little ones, knowing that they were in for a lively day ahead.

"Come on, let's go to your room and play dress-up!" Sana said eagerly, tugging Momo's hand.

The two littles scampered into Momo's bedroom, their laughter echoing through the apartment as they dove into a pile of colorful dress-up clothes.

"I want to be a princess!" Momo declared, holding up a shimmering pink gown.

"I'll be a fairy!" Sana chimed in, her eyes alight with imagination.

The room was soon filled with the sound of fabric rustling, giggles, and soft thuds as the girls rifled through the dress-up box.

"Look, Momo, I have wings!" Sana twirled around, her laughter filling the air as she pretended to fly.

Momo clapped her hands in delight, the joy on her face contagious. "You're a beautiful fairy, Sana!"

As the afternoon flew by, the sound of their laughter filled the apartment, creating a symphony of delight.

"I'm hungry," Sana announced with a little pout, her hand on her tummy.

Nayeon and Jihyo chuckled as they entered the room, carrying trays of sandwiches and fruit slices.

"Lunchtime, little ones!" Nayeon announced cheerily.

The girls' eyes lit up at the sight of the food, and they eagerly settled down at the small table, chattering away as they nibbled on their sandwiches.

The room was filled with the melodic sound of their little voices, the clinking of utensils, and the occasional bursts of laughter.

"After lunch, do you want to play in the garden?" Jihyo suggested as she tidied up the plates.

"Yes, yes, yes!" the girls exclaimed in unison, the eagerness in their voices making Nayeon and Jihyo share a knowing grin.

In the garden, the girls ran around, picking flowers, chasing butterflies, and playing games of tag.

Their laughter drifted through the open windows, mixing with the gentle hum of the afternoon breeze.

"I caught a butterfly!" Sana giggled as she cupped her hands around a delicate, fluttering creature.

"Wow, Sana, that's amazing!" Momo exclaimed, her eyes wide with awe.

The gentle flapping of wings filled the air as Sana released the butterfly, watching with a smile as it fluttered away.

The golden glow of the afternoon bathed the garden, casting long, playful shadows as the girls continued their escapades.

As the sun began its descent, the girls finally paused to catch their breath, their cheeks flushed and their eyes bright with exhilaration from their outdoor adventures.

"I don't want Sana to go," Momo softly murmured, her lower lip trembling slightly.

Sana's face mirrored Momo's sadness. "I don't want to leave," she confessed with a sigh, her tiny shoulders drooping.

Nayeon and Jihyo knelt in front of the girls, their hearts aching at the sight of their dejected expressions.

"You know," Nayeon began with a twinkle in her eye, "Sana can come over again soon, and you two can have more fun together."

"Really?" Momo's eyes widened with hope.

"Of course," Jihyo confirmed with a smile, ruffling Sana's hair. "We'll plan another playdate very soon."

The girls' faces lit up again, their smiles radiant and infectious, as they already began excitedly discussing the adventures they would have during their next playdate.

#kpop agere #sfw regression #twice agere #nayeon #little momo #baby momo #cg Nayeon #little Sana #baby Sana #cg jihyo #mommy jihyo #mama Nayeon #navelynay

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svaints · 1 year ago

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Hi there! I was wondering if you could write a birthday drabble for how the one and only Yuu!Reader might spend their birthday.

Boyfriend Rook and the Pomefiore crew get all dolled up and see theatre performances (Hell maybe they go to one of Vil's). Afterwards Rook and reader have lunch at a fancy restaurant and enthuse about the performance.

Meanwhile everyone else is trying to get a party ready for NRC's favorite prefect. Riddle has sorted everyone into teams according to what they need to accomplish. Baking crew, Decorations crew etc. Best Friend Idia's tinkering away at their computer for a surprise.

𝕽𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝕳𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 𝕾𝖋𝖜

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫: 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤

Being woken up from your nap by Rook looking around your closet may have been the strangest thing you've seen him do till he explained he wanted you well dressed for a performance that was starting in two hours. It was 4 PM, on a weekend...the last thing on your mind was to get up from the comfort of your bed.

"Rook I'm not...in the best spirits." You were eluctant at first since the entire week had been a busy one, He looked backed from the closet and came to lay your clothes down. "Ah Mon amour, tell you what...get dressed, we'll go to Vil's performance, and then we head to your favorite restaurant." To be honest the thought of going to the restaurant that always had a fine view of the outside world and amazing food there was enough motivation. With that, you got ready within 20 mins.

Once it was 5:36 pm, Rook had made sure you both arrived to get seats front row after all he was happily there to encourage his friend and to enjoy the show with his partner.

Meanwhile...back at the college, everyone was busy preparing with Riddle being the leader.

"Great, so everyone is aware it's NRCs Favorite Perfect birthday. I only invited the House wardens because I am sure we don't need too many people here, it will be crowded especially with some not focusing on tasks. Oh and Ace, Trey, Deuce and Cater are extra help."

"Where's Idia then??" Asked Ace, "Idia is working on a gift for perfect. Now! I'll be working on the cake. Kalim decorations with Deuce, Malleus you can cut the fruits for the fruit salad with Trey, Silver with Cater on drinks such as punch, Leona you can blow the balloons up or use the gas tank just make sure to place them around the room in groups of three."

"Awesome.." Leona with arms crossed turned his gaze to the side.

Trey began rinsing the fruits they'd use while Malleus took the kitchen utensils out to cut them up. "Should I sharpen the blade on these?" Malleus asked Trey holding the knife down while he inspected it.

Leona was selecting which balloons would fit the color room best even if it was taking time to match since there was a bunch, "For what do we have all these balloons.."

"Where did you think those balloons came from in special events?" Kalim was carrying a box of party hats, poppers, table cloths, napkins...this boy was carrying a whole variety pack. "Ah, yeah I guess...do you need help with that?" Leona eyed the box surprised. "No, I got this but I can come back to help you with the balloons, I got Deuce setting chairs and tables up right now, I'm sure he won't mind."

Everyone was doing great helping one another when they could. Back to the Majestical Theatre, everyone was applauding Vil upstage as the curtains closed and lights began to brighten up.

"Ah, Magnifique! Wasn't that great dear?!" Rook smiled looking at you, "I agree he is gifted afterall." Vil never failed to make a show touch the hearts of many with his beauty and acts. It all becomes so real for the time being.

After the whole chaos getting out of the crowd being caught up with Vil, Rook took you to the restaurant. Finally alone and away from everyone.

The ambience of dim lights in the fancy place was welcoming as you talked about the performance. "The way he changes outfits back to back must be exhausting, I'd probably get mixed up with the clothing knowing in 5 seconds I have to be back up to play whatever character is next!"

Rook let out a chuckle nodding, "It's truly a chore yes, mon dieu." He shook his head smiling before looking down and took out a small red velvet box with a gold ribbon on it, handing it to you. "Open it."

You smiled and took it from his hands eyeing the box before opening it to see a necklace you've been saving up on for quite some time.

"Rook are you serious! You didn't have to...ahh, it's like I imagined it to be..." He only admired the corner of your lips curve into a grin. "Happy Birthday mon lapin!" He admired the way the necklace decorated your neck, how it complimented your skin color and all, it was meant to be worn by you.

"Thank you, I love it." You smiled holding his hand from across the table as he tightens his grip on yours.

Back in at the College, everyone was finished after the busy afternoon. The kitchen was cleaned up after Riddle suggested it so everyone could enjoy the party.

"This is great, honestly." Silver sighed smiling. "Yes for once I agree. Now we hide." As soon as Riddle said it, everyone scrambled to their positions with the party poppers.

Rook was already walking you down to the venue with his hands on your wrists making sure to keep your hands covering your eyes. "Don't peek at all, at all!" He chuckled.

"I feel like you're trying to lead me into trouble again.." You giggled and suddenly hear the door shut behind you, his grip gone. "Rook?..."

The party poppers went off as soon as the lights came on causing a slight startle.

"Happy Birthday!" Everyone cheered as you laughed the shock off. "Jesus so many surprises!" Rook stood beside you and leading the way to the cake being lit up.

It seemed perfect moment with everyone wishing you the best as the favorite in the college. Everyone talking about the first impressions, the memories you've given them, how they felt their lives change once you came and gave them another thing to look forward to.

At the end of the day after clean up, you took the gifts to your room with the help of Rook. One gift specifically caught your eye seeing it was from your best friend, Idia.

"What's wrong?" Asked Rook watching your eyes admiring the gift all around before opening it. It had bubble wrap all around, a flat glass with buttons such as replay, forward, backward, and pause.

"I'm not sure what this is..." You said before pressing play and the glass lit up above you replaying the moment everyone sang Happy Birthday to you.

You smiled seeing it play before your eyes. Pressing forward played the moment you danced with Rook for the first time in the Masquerade ball, first time actually having a full conversation after he helped you too.

Rook sighed lovingly remembering the scene before taking the gift and set it down, taking your hand with his and pulled you in closer to dance.

"I'll never forget the day, it's the most enchanting moments of my life...the scenery and the beauty before me..." He looked down at you wanting to relive it all.

Thinking about it, Idias request to have you half a day to put you to sleep while having those small patches on your temples and head made sense as weird as it was.

He wanted to have something to look back to be able to feel it all again just as it was the first time.

Now and then when you feel a little sentimental, all you'd have to do was turn the lights off and let all your memories replay before you. Idia even made sure to had you a guide on how to make it work, he had broken down many steps saving you from the endless hours of coding and combining you would've had to do.

Now all it takes was a to put the patches on and let them process or a usb would do fine.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #idia shroud #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt twst #twst rook hunt #twst rook #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland rook hunt #rook hunt #twst x yuu #twisted wonderland rook #pomefiore rook #pomefiore #HunterDeAmour

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chxxrriberry · 5 months ago

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A Look Back At My Eating Habits

- Sneaking into the kitchen at night while everyone else was sleeping to eat something

- I had a huge stash of pop tart wrappers behind my bed

- I would get a bag (or two) of food from the cafeteria as school released and would eat it on the bus on my way home

- I would go around the cafeteria asking people if I could have their food

- I would have my friends get me food from the lunch line and give it to me

- I would ask my friends to bring me snacks from their house

- I would never deny food if someone offered

- I would always go for seconds

- I would regularly get a McChicken from McDonald’s and get two chicken patties with extra mayo (called it the McDicken)

- While working at McDonalds, I would always sneak food when no one was looking

- I would get a Big Mac and fries and sometimes a McFlurry on my break

- After work, if there was food left over, I would take it home to eat.

- As I would walk home with my food in hand, I would stop midway and sit on a bench and eat all my food there because I couldn’t wait

- I would DoorDash all the time

- I would regularly tell the door dashers to meet me at my bedroom window so my Dad wouldn’t find out

- I would walk to the store or gas station to get a pint of ice cream, candy, cookies, and monsters and would eat it all in one settings

- I would also DoorDash the ice cream, candy, cookies, and monsters

- I would eat super fast almost like I would never eat again

- I would tell family or friends that I didn’t eat so I could eat again

- I would always complain or be upset if the restaurant didn’t “give me enough” because I liked big portions

- I would hide party size bags of KitKats and Reese’s pieces underneath my bed

- I would be too ashamed to throw my wrappers in the trash for my family to see so I hid them in a box underneath my bed

- I would hide plates, bowls, utensils underneath my bed

- Constantly looking in the fridge or pantry

- I would be upset if I couldn’t eat my little sisters snacks that were for school

- One time I went to the mall, got Panda Express then a HUGE slice of pizza afterwards and ate it all

- Always drank soda or monsters, barely any water

- I would use EarlyPay to get money from my paycheck faster only so I could DoorDash or go on my snack runs

- I had $2000 in savings and used it all to go out to eat almost every night with my friend

- I would offer to pay for my friends meals just because I wanted to eat and wanted someone to go with

- Rarely had leftovers from restaurants because I would eat it all

This is a lot. Making this list makes me realize how far I have come. I was a victim to food. A prisoner. I had disgusting and selfish tendencies and would always act on them without much regard. It makes me mad thinking of all the money I wasted on such shitty food. The worst part is, that $2000 in savings was supposed to go towards getting an apartment with my (now ex) boyfriend. I let food control me. And I wish nothing more that I hadn’t given in. I was weak. It made me do terrible, disgusting things. But I’m no longer a slave to food. I’m stronger than I have ever been and I am so proud of myself. I never want to be that girl again, she disgusts me.

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enbysaurus-rex · 2 years ago

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So maybe life is hard sometimes

and it would be nice if it were easier. It might not be any one thing, but maybe there are a lot of little problems that add up or thinks that are just exhausting? Disability/executive dysfunction/life/burnout maybe has you down, that’s all, and you know you can make your space yours to make it better, but what does that mean???

An incomplete list in no particular order about the Weird Shit I do to make my life less fucking exhausting, sometimes. I’m a certified adult, I promise.

More garbage cans! Put them everywhere! Next to your bed and your chair and your couch and both ends of your counter and your litter boxes and-

Hair ties, everywhere! If you have tie-back-able hair! Brushes, maybe, or combs! I keep them in my desk and in my kitchen and my bathroom and my car and my floor (I have cats) and my trunk and my bag and-

Toothbrushes and toothpaste! Gum! Those weird little single use toothbrush fuckers! Everywhere! I keep a toothbrush and kids toothpaste in my car cup holder! I brushed my teeth at 3pm while running an errand for my boss! I use kids toothpaste bc my hands hate me and it’s easier to squeeze! Big packs at the dollar store for the toothbrushes, and you can get cheap toothpaste! Hell, even if you just use the brush it’s better than nothing!! I keep another set in my shower and in my kitchen and in my bag

Loads of chairs! Seating! Everywhere! Stools in the kitchen, chairs by your vanity, shower chairs, literally??? There’s no law that says you have to stand up??? Sit on the goddamn floor if you’ve been standing in line for too long? I do it all the time? Live your best life!

Pre-chopped/cooked/peeled/whatevered food!! Whatever makes food edible for you, fckn do that! No need for extra steps! I throw a handful of craisins in my jar of peanut butter and then eat them out of the jar with a plastic spoon! There’s a food truck out there where they get worried if I don’t show up every day! I eat beans straight out of the jar if I’m not up to cooking! (I like cooking and I love my slow cooker but??? If you’re not up to it? Who gives a shit??? Get you some minute rice and some beans and microwave that shit!)

Disposable! Dishes! Fuck! Throw them away! Dishes are the WORST?? Buy some plastic bowls and some utensils and just!!! Yeet em!!! (Meal prep containers are great if u can bc you can keep reusing them if u want but u don’t have to? You can put them in the fridge if you don’t finish, take it to lunch the next day, rinse, repeat!)

Changing clothes totally depends on your work wardrobe? But fckn sleep in the next days clothes if you have to/can? Or sleep in some of it and leave the rest laid out next to you? Sometimes getting all the way dressed and undressed is too goddamn much?? Fuck knows I can’t!

Cleaning!! Clorox wipes are the love of my life and I would kill for them! Leave a box of those fucks everywhere! Esp the back of the toilet, where you bathe, and near where you meal prep, cuz that’s where you’re gonna have Waiting Time! Which means your bored little gremlin hands could clean!

Put things close to the floor if u gotta! I used to keep all my appliances (my slow cooker, my microwave, tea kettle, etc) on the floor bc I was too tired to stand up very often? So I propped myself up on walls and did my veggie chopping on the floor

If u gotta crawl, crawl. Butt scooch? Do that. Lean on walls, hang onto counters, do whatever. I’m usually dragging myself around the apartment like a shitty legless zombie extra and my cats love it. Maybe put extra pillows around for yourself if you’re a spontaneous napper

If keeping food fresh/using food before it goes bad is hard, buy frozen or canned or eat out. I sure as hell have no idea when the things in my fridge got there, and I’m lucky I’ve only gotten food poisoning like once that way lol, so just?? Yeah

Medicine bottles can come with easy open caps! You have to promise there aren’t kids in the house, but if u ever have grip strength issues or even if it’s a reason you sometimes don’t take your meds (CVS bottles, I’m looking at you), just ask your pharmacist to switch them out. They’ll do it so fast!

Charge cords everywhere! None of that ‘idk where I put my cord 😭’ shit cuz I have like? So many? All of them cheap? But they do the job

Please add more if you have them? These are ones I can think of from bed because someone reminded me that I Do Things Like This Now and it might be useful to someone

#chronic illness #weird disability hacks #how to adult when your body fckn hates you I guess #idk y’all my cat just dislocated two more ribs so I’m gonna hit post

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lewinblue · 9 months ago

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Sunny m'dear, the Ben Mears thoughts/thots are back to cause their usual chaos (lol).

-Literally nobody in the coven house ever goes hungry. If nobody eats it means that they were either too preoccupied with a hunt or somebody forgot to pay the gas and electric bill (lol).

-Everybody in the house learned to cook their own shit from an early age. Sure nobody's a gourmet chef or anything but it certainly feels like it sometimes.

-Ben's favorite thing is when he gets to make his Aunt Cindy and Uncle Sean's recipe for apple and cranberry roasted chicken. He'll let the roaster brine in the fridge for a couple of days and add the herbs and spices just before it gets set on top of a bed of carrots, onions and celery. That thing starts cookin, the entire household won't stay outta the kitchen.

-Father Callahan may be an Irishman but damn that man can cook Italian dinners like nobody's business. Lasagna, caccitore, gnocchi, you name it, he's got it in the recipe box. The lasagna's super meaty and cheesy and he even uses the tomatoes from the backyard garden to make the sauce.

-Of course who could live without Matt Burke's pasta bolognese? It's totally delicious but man does it have a ton of garlic in it. One of the coven members ate the leftovers before a hunt, ended up burping in the face of a vampire and it ended up killing the creature.

-Mike and Lucy will make a huge pot of chicken noodle soup and they add a little bit of dill and chickpeas to it. They even use all the dark meat from the chicken so it has all that good flavor in there.

-You've made all kinds of stuff too. A real favorite in the cold months is steak au poivre soup with all the potatoes and stringy little onion curls. Your homemade mac'n'cheese is a big hit too and there's almost no leftovers the next day.

-Mark and Randy will help you cook without question. Mark has a pretty good reign on the kitchen utensils but Randy usually uses his little baby knife to cut bread and apples. Randy loves helping you bake but Mark likes to go full mad scientist and work with the meat and it's only then that Ben has to be on standby to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.

-Two members of the coven, Frank and Beth Daniels, are both from the Mi'kmaq Indian territory and they both make alot of the stuff they grew up with for Sunday dinners. Beth still has her grandma's baked bean recipe which takes a few days to prepare but damn it's delicious. Frank will make his family's bannock recipe for breakfast and homemade blueberry jam from his and Beth's orchard. You're pretty grateful whenever he and Beth come for Thanksgiving dinner because Frank constantly has to talk the men of the house out of deep frying the turkey every year (thank God he's a firefighter to boot, lol).

-Mark definitely takes the leftovers for lunch the next day. He loves it cuz it means not having to eat the gross school lunches and he loves seeing the look on the faces of all the snotty school bullies too (lol).

Sunny I'm sorry, I'm a big foodie and I didn't eat much this afternoon for lunch so this made me extra hungry 😋😋😋😋 (I'll have to elaborate more on the turkey fiasco, that might end up becoming a fic in November, lol).

Lol this made me so hungry.

I can just imagine a mayhap early on while schedules are still being worked out and everyone is figuring out what each of them are capable of. On more than one occasion there have been at least three dishes made because Father Callahan thought it was his turn to cook but Matt Burke had a taste for his bolognese and there are still left overs from last nights meal and of course someone insisted on dessert so now everyone is eating Thanksgiving quantities on a normal Tuesday.

#ben mears x reader #Ben mears #the void talks back to sunny

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fandomwritings-cm13 · 1 month ago

Text

In the Way (College!AU, Steve Rogers x fem!OC) — Chapter 7

Summary: Devyn is sick and Steve takes care of her

Word Count: 1904

Note: Please let me know what you think!

Steve’s POV:

I knock on Devyn’s door, though I’m surprised when it takes a few minutes for her to open the door. When it does finally open, she leans on the doorframe. Her eyes are barely open, she looks pale, and she’s sweaty.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She shakes her head slowly.

With one hand, I guide her back inside, and with the other, I open the door enough for us both to go through then close and lock it behind me. I guide her back to her bed and help her to lay back down. Once she’s settled, I pull the blankets back over her then feel her forehead.

“I’ll bring you lunch and dinner, and I’ll run to the store to pick up some medicine for you,” I state. “You stay here and rest.”

Her eyes blink open slowly, and she looks up at me for a moment.

“If you need anything else, text or call me.”

She nods slowly but curls up on the bed.

“Do you need another blanket?”

She stares across the room, silent, for a moment before she nods again. “Please.”

I frown at the hoarseness of her voice but get up and find her another blanket, draping it over her before taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Do you need anything else before I go?” I whisper.

She shakes her head, her eyes already closed again.

“Where’s your key?” I request. “I don’t want you to have to keep getting up for me to come in.”

“In the side pocket… on my backpack,” she breathes. “It’s with my ID.”

I stand and go to where her backpack sits, in the chair of her desk, then return with her key tucked into my pocket. I go back to her, lean down, and kiss her cheek.

“I’ll be back around lunch time,” I whisper. “You rest. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

She nods, her eyes still closed.

I leave her room and lock the door behind me before heading down to the main floor and then to my first class of the day.

. . . . . .

I unlock Devyn’s door and head inside, a couple foam to-go containers and a plastic shopping bag in one hand. She’s still asleep and in bed. I set everything on her desk then take a seat on the edge of her bed. She stirs a little, but her eyes remain closed.

I rest a hand on her side and shake her gently. Her eyes blink open a moment later, so I stop shaking her. She stares across the room for a few seconds then looks up at me.

I smile gently at her. “How’re you feeling?”

She shrugs her shoulders, her eyes half closed.

“I’ve got lunch and some medicine.”

She sits up a little, and I offer my arm to her to help her get comfortable. She uses my arm to help her fully sit up then she moves to sit back against the headboard.

Once she’s settled, I get up and grab one of the foam containers. I hand it to her with some plastic utensils. She takes it and begins eating, though rather slowly. I turn around, grab mine, and return to the bed to take a seat on the edge, facing her. She looks up when I sit down.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

She nods.

“What do you need?”

A blush reddens her cheeks more brightly, and she looks down at her food. She mumbles something, but I can’t understand or hear her.

“One more time?”

She glances up at me for a second before looking down at her food again. “Can you sit next to me?”

I smile and stand, going around the bed to the other side. I then take a seat and move up to the headboard. Almost immediately, she lays her head on my shoulder. As I dig in, with another class before ROTC, I notice she’s eating rather slowly, but I don’t say anything to her about it.

It’s several minutes before I finish eating and set my nearly empty foam box aside. Devyn seems to notice and moves to set hers aside as well, though it’s not even half finished.

I gently grab her arm. “You keep eating.” She’s still frozen, so I continue. “You don’t have to be finished if you don’t want to. I’ve got class in a bit.”

She frowns.

“Unfortunately, I won’t be back until after ROTC tonight with dinner. I’ll get something for us both. You’ll take your medicine?”

She nods. “Yeah. What will you bring for dinner?”

“What would you like?”

She stares up at me for a moment before her eyes wander down to the bed. “I don’t know... Do you have any idea what they might be serving?”

I shrug. “Not a clue. Anything I should keep an eye out for? Would some soup be better?”

She nods quickly then, as her head nods slow, she blushes. “Maybe some fries, too?”

I chuckle but nod. “If you want.”

“Please.”

“Anything else I can get for you?”

“A soda, maybe a tea from the coffeeshop?”

I frown. “Probably not a soda right now.”

“What about a white soda?”

I sigh, shaking my head, though I smile. “Alright, I’ll concede to that.”

“Thank you for getting food and medicine for me. I think going up and down this many stairs would kill me right now.”

I smile at her. “I’m happy to help you feel better.”

After a little longer, I get up and throw the trash away then set aside some medicine for Devyn on her nightstand with some water. I take a seat on the edge of the bed but face her.

“Anything you need before I head to class?” I ask.

She’s silent for a moment, clearly thinking about her answer. “No, I don’t think so. I should get up anyway. Have a lot of work to do if I’m not going to class at all today…”

“You need to be taking it very easy right now for you to get better.”

“But-”

“No, you need to take it easy. What can I do?”

“Maybe get my computer and charger from my bag?”

I almost glare at her, looking at her in disbelief.

“I won’t do any work, and if I do, it won’t be for very long. I promise.”

“No textbooks today. We’ll see how you feel tomorrow.”

She nods, and I take it as agreement. It’s then I go to her bag and get her computer and charger, setting the computer beside her on the bed and plugging in the charger for her.

“I’ll see you after class, alright?” I state.

She nods. “Thank you, Steve.”

I lean down and kiss her cheek before getting my things and leaving.

. . . . . .

I approach Devyn’s door again, my hands full of food and drinks and my backpack on my back. I pull her key out of my pocket, unlock the door, and enter, locking the door behind me. My heart rate picks up a bit when I don’t see her in bed or even in the main part of her dorm room. Seconds later, I hear her.

Throwing up in the bathroom.

I quickly set the food and drinks down on her desk then begin rushing to the bathroom, dropping my backpack somewhere along the way. Once inside, I find her hunched over the toilet, her hair obscuring her face from my view.

I kneel next to her and pull her hair back. She jumps, but when she feels my hand on her back, she relaxes. It only lasts a moment before she’s throwing up again. It continues for a moment before she leans back a bit.

“When did this start?” I question, rubbing her back gently.

“I started feeling nauseous… an hour after lunch? And I was fine until a few minutes ago.”

I frown a little. “You need to stay a little longer?”

She sits there for a brief moment then shakes her head. “I don’t really feel nauseous now.”

I let go of her hair and move my arm around her waist. I use that to hold her steady as we both stand. We stay still for a moment before I move us closer to the sink. With one hand, I keep Devyn steady, and with the other, I wet down a washcloth left on the counter. After I shut off the water, I gently wipe off her face, paying close attention to her mouth and chin.

“Better?” I check.

She nods. “Thank you.”

I guide her out into the main room of her dorm and help her get comfortable on her bed before returning to the bathroom. I flush the toilet and close the lid then wash my hands.

When I return to the main room, she’s still seated on her bed, and I notice my backpack is laying on the floor not far from the foot of her bed. As I approach her desk, I pick up my bag and set it neatly by her chair.

“I’ve got chicken noodle soup with crackers,” I say, “and I got tea from the coffeeshop and a soda for you.” I look over my shoulder at her. “What would you like to start with?”

She looks over at me and the stuff on her desk, silent briefly. “Um,” she pauses, “maybe the crackers and soda…”

I fish the crackers out of the bag our dinners are in and take them and her soda to her. She sets the drink on her nightstand after taking a small sip then opens one of the packages of crackers. I turn and grab my dinner to join her.

As I settle into a comfortable position beside her, she grabs her laptop, opens it, and pulls up whatever she was watching before.

Devyn looks at me over her shoulder. “Let me know if I should change it.”

I smile but shake my head. “Watch whatever you want.”

There’s no talking as we begin eating, only her video plays in the background. After a few minutes, I get her soup and tea, bringing them to her so she has something more substantial for dinner than just crackers. She eats, and when she’s finished, I make sure she takes some medicine then clean up our trash.

When I return to the bed, she’s already comfortably laying. She blinks rather slowly as she continues watching the video. I settle in behind her, keeping a little distance between us for the moment, then wrap an arm around her. She jumps a little, turning slightly to look at me over her shoulder.

“I don’t want to get you sick,” she insists.

“I probably won’t get sick,” I reply.

“Are you sure-”

I nod. “I’m sure.”

She stares for a couple more seconds before settling back into the position she was in previously. She’s still for quite a while, so I carefully get up to not wake her. I close her laptop and put it on her desk. I double check her lock and turn off the lights before joining her once again. After I settle into place, she shifts closer to me, so I wrap an arm around her. A few more minutes pass, and she shifts again, this time onto her other side so her head rests on my chest. I smile a little and allow my eyes to close.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She shakes her head slowly.

“I’ll bring you lunch and dinner, and I’ll run to the store to pick up some medicine for you,” I state. “You stay here and rest.”

Her eyes blink open slowly, and she looks up at me for a moment.

“If you need anything else, text or call me.”

She nods slowly but curls up on the bed.

“Do you need another blanket?”

She stares across the room, silent, for a moment before she nods again. “Please.”

I frown at the hoarseness of her voice but get up and find her another blanket, draping it over her before taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Do you need anything else before I go?” I whisper.

She shakes her head, her eyes already closed again.

“Where’s your key?” I request. “I don’t want you to have to keep getting up for me to come in.”

“In the side pocket… on my backpack,” she breathes. “It’s with my ID.”

I stand and go to where her backpack sits, in the chair of her desk, then return with her key tucked into my pocket. I go back to her, lean down, and kiss her cheek.

“I’ll be back around lunch time,” I whisper. “You rest. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

She nods, her eyes still closed.

I leave her room and lock the door behind me before heading down to the main floor and then to my first class of the day.

. . . . . .

I rest a hand on her side and shake her gently. Her eyes blink open a moment later, so I stop shaking her. She stares across the room for a few seconds then looks up at me.

I smile gently at her. “How’re you feeling?”

She shrugs her shoulders, her eyes half closed.

“I’ve got lunch and some medicine.”

She sits up a little, and I offer my arm to her to help her get comfortable. She uses my arm to help her fully sit up then she moves to sit back against the headboard.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

She nods.

“What do you need?”

A blush reddens her cheeks more brightly, and she looks down at her food. She mumbles something, but I can’t understand or hear her.

“One more time?”

She glances up at me for a second before looking down at her food again. “Can you sit next to me?”

It’s several minutes before I finish eating and set my nearly empty foam box aside. Devyn seems to notice and moves to set hers aside as well, though it’s not even half finished.

I gently grab her arm. “You keep eating.” She’s still frozen, so I continue. “You don’t have to be finished if you don’t want to. I’ve got class in a bit.”

She frowns.

“Unfortunately, I won’t be back until after ROTC tonight with dinner. I’ll get something for us both. You’ll take your medicine?”

She nods. “Yeah. What will you bring for dinner?”

“What would you like?”

She stares up at me for a moment before her eyes wander down to the bed. “I don’t know... Do you have any idea what they might be serving?”

I shrug. “Not a clue. Anything I should keep an eye out for? Would some soup be better?”

She nods quickly then, as her head nods slow, she blushes. “Maybe some fries, too?”

I chuckle but nod. “If you want.”

“Please.”

“Anything else I can get for you?”

“A soda, maybe a tea from the coffeeshop?”

I frown. “Probably not a soda right now.”

“What about a white soda?”

I sigh, shaking my head, though I smile. “Alright, I’ll concede to that.”

“Thank you for getting food and medicine for me. I think going up and down this many stairs would kill me right now.”

I smile at her. “I’m happy to help you feel better.”

After a little longer, I get up and throw the trash away then set aside some medicine for Devyn on her nightstand with some water. I take a seat on the edge of the bed but face her.

“Anything you need before I head to class?” I ask.

She’s silent for a moment, clearly thinking about her answer. “No, I don’t think so. I should get up anyway. Have a lot of work to do if I’m not going to class at all today…”

“You need to be taking it very easy right now for you to get better.”

“But-”

“No, you need to take it easy. What can I do?”

“Maybe get my computer and charger from my bag?”

I almost glare at her, looking at her in disbelief.

“I won’t do any work, and if I do, it won’t be for very long. I promise.”

“No textbooks today. We’ll see how you feel tomorrow.”

She nods, and I take it as agreement. It’s then I go to her bag and get her computer and charger, setting the computer beside her on the bed and plugging in the charger for her.

“I’ll see you after class, alright?” I state.

She nods. “Thank you, Steve.”

I lean down and kiss her cheek before getting my things and leaving.

. . . . . .

Throwing up in the bathroom.

“When did this start?” I question, rubbing her back gently.

“I started feeling nauseous… an hour after lunch? And I was fine until a few minutes ago.”

I frown a little. “You need to stay a little longer?”

She sits there for a brief moment then shakes her head. “I don’t really feel nauseous now.”

“Better?” I check.

She nods. “Thank you.”

I guide her out into the main room of her dorm and help her get comfortable on her bed before returning to the bathroom. I flush the toilet and close the lid then wash my hands.

“I’ve got chicken noodle soup with crackers,” I say, “and I got tea from the coffeeshop and a soda for you.” I look over my shoulder at her. “What would you like to start with?”

She looks over at me and the stuff on her desk, silent briefly. “Um,” she pauses, “maybe the crackers and soda…”

As I settle into a comfortable position beside her, she grabs her laptop, opens it, and pulls up whatever she was watching before.

Devyn looks at me over her shoulder. “Let me know if I should change it.”

I smile but shake my head. “Watch whatever you want.”

“I don’t want to get you sick,” she insists.

“I probably won’t get sick,” I reply.

“Are you sure-”

I nod. “I’m sure.”

#chloewritesfandoms #steve rogers #marvel #captain america #steve rogers x oc #chris evans

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