#and having to repeat facts about himself in order to remember them

[leifyposting]

Your name is Diluc Ragnvindr. 

Or are you misremembering again? You’re forgetful, these days. 

Your name is Diluc Ragnvindr. You are certain of this. It meant something, once.

It is so cold out here. At least, you think it ought to be cold. It’s probably a bad sign that you are starting to feel warm. Or… don’t some of the native Snezhnayans make houses out of snow? Maybe that’s the reason you’re suddenly feeling warm, warm and toasty, like you’re snuggled up by a fire. When was the last time you sat by a fireplace? Do you remember?

Your name is Diluc Ragnvindr. Your father’s name is Crepus. 

No, that’s not right, is it? Try again.

Your father’s name was Crepus. 

Right. Because you killed him, don’t you remember? 

It was an act of mercy.

Put your hands around his neck and squeezed until the life faded from his eyes. 

It was an act of mercy!

Or maybe you placed your hand on his chest and pumped flame into his heart until it stopped beating. Wouldn’t that be poetic, the coveter killed by the very thing he had so coveted?

Your Delusion gleams on your chest, the same colour as the blood that’s blooming on the snow underneath you. It winks out at you from the bird that adorns your coat, like it knows something you don’t know, like it knows something you have forgotten. You have forgotten a lot, lately. 

He would have died from his injuries anyway. You simply couldn’t watch him suffer anymore.

Does that help you sleep at night?

No. It doesn’t. 

You haven’t slept well in a while. Three years, now; three years of tossing and turning and waking up from nightmares in a cold sweat. You can mark the time down to the day. No one tells you that when you turn 18 you forfeit any claim you had to a good night’s rest. That happens to everyone, right? Or is it just you? What happened on your 18th birthday that robbed you forevermore of rest? 

What else do you remember?

You have one brother. 

Oh?

Had one brother. His name is Kaeya. 

What happened to him?

You… You don’t remember. 

You do. Try harder. 

You don’t remember. 

He can’t have meant that much to you, then. 

He did! He does!

Then why don’t you remember?

You… 

Red against the night sky. Raindrops hit your blade and sizzle, sending steam into the air. You swing your claymore blindly, your vision obscured by flame, towards someone standing in front of you. Are you aiming for him, truly? Are you simply overtaken by grief? Either way, the effect is the same. When the steam clears, there is frost on the ground — an acknowledgement of the gods’ favour upon him. You turn and do not look at him again.

You had a fight, the two of you. 

Ah, there we go. What about?

It was after your dad died. 

And?

And he told you… something. Something that made you hurt him. Why can’t you remember?

Was it important?

It felt important at the time. 

And now?

Now it doesn’t seem worth much of anything. 

The snow is melting underneath you. You have always run hot, even before you received your Vision. You sink further into the snowdrift and it cradles your body like the mother you never knew. High, high up above you, an eagle makes slow circles in the air. You try to look around, but you are too weak to lift your head. 

Death has a way of putting things into perspective.

You’re not dying. Are you?

Sure looks like you’re dying, little prodigal. 

Kaeya will save you. He always has before. 

Kaeya’s not coming. You disowned him, remember? You tried to kill him. 

You didn’t mean it. 

That doesn’t change what you did. And now there is no one but yourself to save you. 

You remember… a boy on his knees in front of you, cradling a newly granted Vision to his chest. You remember the charred sleeves of his jacket, the skin of his arms raw and red, the blood that’s oozing from underneath his eyepatch. You remember the look of horror on his face. You don’t remember what you did to put it there. You don’t remember who he is. You don’t remember who you are.

It is so cold out here.

Stop that. 

And you are so tired. 

Enough of this. Who are you?

You don’t remember. 

Think. 

You don’t remember. 

Who are you?

Your name is– Your name is Diluc Ragnvindr. 

And?

You are 21 years old. Your father’s name is Crepus. Your brother Kaeya…

You hear crunching on the snow behind you. Footsteps, growing louder and faster as they spot you. A flash of blue in your peripheral vision, half obscured by the blood in your eye. Kaeya? Is that Kaeya?

Your brother Kaeya is not coming to save you.

Someone sinks to their knees next to you. “Gods, kid. Always getting yourself into trouble, aren’t you?” A woman’s voice. She gets her arms underneath you and lifts. You feel the earth fall away, blood and melted snow dripping from your coattails. “Let’s get you home.”

You don’t remember what home is. 

Yes, you do.

You remember a fireplace. The smell of wine. The feel of dirt beneath your feet, the gleam of a crystalfly outside your window, the dense heat of a summer evening before a storm. You remember a woman’s voice, gently chiding you for trekking mud into the house. You remember your brother’s obnoxious grin as he bends to take his boots off, ever the rule-follower. 

That’s not the home she’s taking you to.

You know that. She’s taking you back to headquarters.

Is that a good thing?

They will keep you from dying.

Is that all you want?

That’s all you deserve. 

But is that all you want?

No. It isn’t. 

Oh, little prodigal. Isn’t it time to go home?

[solxamber]

Hello!

I have a request idea

Fem Yuu who is a princess- Crown Princess, in fact, of an empire far away across the sea that hasn't made contact with Twisted Wonderland's mainland for the past 200 years- and the reason the Dark Mirror pulled Princess!Yuu to NRC was to reconnect the lost magic from the Empire to the mainland because they very much need this magic to restore order to the world

Can this be with the Overblot Gang (including Malleus) + Ruggie, romantic hcs about the boys finding out Yuu's a princess after they start dating, and include the boys and Yuu finding out her mission of reuniting TW's magic with the Empire magic from the Dark Mirror? Thanks!

Overblot Gang + Ruggie x Princess! Reader

hi, i love the intricacies in your request! i made them mini fics instead of hcs. i hope that's alright! if this not what you wanted then just let me know <3

Riddle Rosehearts

The crisp autumn air wafts through the window of Heartslabyul’s dorm, and you watch Riddle pacing by the window. His usual composed demeanor is fraying at the edges, and you can feel the tension radiating from him. The letter, the one with the broken seal, sits accusingly on the desk, a constant reminder of the secret you’ve kept for far too long.

A Crown Princess. That’s who you are. Or rather, that’s who you’ve always been, but here, in Twisted Wonderland, you’d managed to push it aside. Until now.

Riddle has always prided himself on knowing everything about the people around him. Rules and order are his guiding principles, but you’ve been an exception to that. You know this must be eating him alive—how could I have missed something so important?

You take a breath, steadying yourself. You’ve faced worse than this—court intrigue, magical politics, centuries-old prophecies—but this feels heavier because it’s him. And he’s looking at you, brow furrowed, his usual clear-cut logic fraying under the weight of the revelation.

“I received a letter,” Riddle finally says, breaking the silence. His voice is sharp, but it wavers at the edges, betraying his frustration. He gestures to the letter, the Dark Mirror’s seal still visible under the broken wax. “From the Dark Mirror. It… told me everything.”

Your stomach churns, but you’ve prepared yourself for this moment. You knew you couldn’t hide your identity forever. “So, you know,” you say softly, stepping toward him.

“I do.” His words are clipped, tension taut in every syllable. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You move closer, offering a tentative smile. “It wasn’t about hiding anything, Riddle. I just… wanted to keep things simple between us. I didn’t want you to treat me differently because of my title.”

“You’re a Crown Princess,” he repeats, disbelief laced through his words. “Of an empire that hasn’t made contact with Twisted Wonderland for over two hundred years. And your magic—” His voice catches, and you see his expression darken as he recalls the moment of his overblot. “The magic you used to save me… that was your empire’s magic, wasn’t it?”

You nod, biting your lip as memories flood back. The moment you had stepped in, wielding the ancient, pure magic of your kingdom to pull him back from the brink of his overblot. You remember the desperate glow in your hands, the way his distorted form had stilled under your touch, the pure energy surging through you. No blot. Just light.

“It was,” you admit. “That magic is what our kingdom has safeguarded for centuries. Pure energy. Untainted by the corruption of blotting.”

Riddle’s brow creases. “Why didn’t you tell me before? I could have helped.”

“It’s not something I wanted to burden you with,” you say, your voice soft but firm. “You have so much on your plate already. You’re the dorm leader, managing all of Heartslabyul, and on top of that, your own studies. I didn’t want to complicate things.”

He steps closer, his posture rigid but his eyes softening as they meet yours. “You’re not a burden,” he says quietly but firmly. “I want to help you. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

Your heart tightens at his words. He’s always been so strong, so in control of everything. But here he is, offering to share the weight of a secret that could shift the balance of the world’s magic.

You take a deep breath, feeling the gravity of what you’re about to say. “There’s more to it. The reason the Dark Mirror pulled me here wasn’t just to attend NRC. It’s because the balance of magic in Twisted Wonderland has been… fractured. Our magic—the Empire’s magic—was lost to this land centuries ago, and now the Mirror believes it’s time to reunite them.”

His eyes widen, the seriousness of the situation settling in. “Reunite the magic? How?”

“I was chosen to reconnect our magic with Twisted Wonderland’s,” you explain. “My kingdom’s magic is pure and powerful, but without the balance of your world’s magic, it’s unstable. There’s an imbalance, Riddle. It’s why overblots are becoming more frequent.”

He winces at the mention of overblots. He knows that all too well. “So… the Dark Mirror sent you here as part of a prophecy? To fix the magic?”

You nod. “Yes. But I didn’t want to drag you into that. I just… wanted to be normal for a while.”

There’s silence for a moment as Riddle processes everything. His mind must be spinning—ancient kingdoms, magical prophecy, a mission that spans centuries. But then, slowly, he reaches for your hand. His fingers brush against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his touch grounding you.

“I’m in this with you,” he says, his voice steady. “We’ll figure it out together.”

You smile, relief washing over you. “Thank you.”

He straightens, his usual air of authority returning. “We need to make a plan. There’s a lot that needs to be done if we’re going to reunite the Empire’s magic with Twisted Wonderland’s.”

You chuckle softly. “You’re already thinking ahead.”

“Of course,” he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “This is too important to leave to chance.”

You squeeze his hand, grateful for his support. You’ve known all along that this mission was going to be a monumental task, but having him by your side makes it feel more manageable.

“No more secrets, alright?” Riddle adds, his tone softer now.

“No more secrets,” you promise, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like the weight of the world isn’t yours to bear alone.

Leona Kingscholar

You’ve always known that keeping your true identity from Leona wouldn’t last forever. He’s sharp—far too sharp to miss something as big as the fact that you’re not just any transfer student. But so far, you’ve managed to fly under the radar. Leona’s laziness and your tendency to avoid unnecessary confrontation have kept your secret under wraps. Until now.

It’s a typical sunny day in the Savanna, and Leona is lounging on his favorite spot in the botanical garden. You’re sitting beside him, staring at the letter in your hand, the seal of your empire unmistakable. The weight of the truth presses on your chest as you glance at him, knowing you can’t keep this from him any longer.

“Oi, herbivore, why you fidgetin’ like that?” Leona drawls without even opening his eyes, his voice deep and lazy, though you can sense the undercurrent of curiosity.

You hesitate for a moment, your fingers tightening around the letter. “Leona, there’s something I need to tell you.”

He cracks open one eye, barely lifting his head to look at you. “If you’re about to tell me you broke one of Ruggie’s bones or something, I really don’t care.”

You let out a small laugh despite the nerves swirling in your stomach. “No, it’s not that. It’s… bigger than that. A lot bigger.”

Leona raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t move. “Bigger than the time you saved me from my overblot with that weird magic of yours? You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

Your breath hitches at the memory. The power you’d unleashed back then—the pure, non-blot magic that had surged from your very soul to pull him back from the edge. He’d never asked too many questions about it, which had always struck you as odd. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge how close he’d come to losing control.

“I’m not who you think I am, Leona,” you say, feeling the weight of the confession settle in. “I’m a Crown Princess. Of an empire across the sea. One that hasn’t been in contact with Twisted Wonderland for over two hundred years.”

Leona’s other eye opens now, and he shifts to sit up, his attention fully on you for the first time. “What?”

You offer a weak smile, holding up the letter. “This is from my family. They’re reminding me of the mission I was sent here for.”

“Mission?” His voice is lower now, a growl edging into his words. “What mission?”

You take a deep breath and begin to explain. “Our empire’s magic… it’s pure energy. It doesn’t generate blot like the magic here. But centuries ago, we lost contact with Twisted Wonderland, and the Dark Mirror believes that the magic of our two worlds needs to be reunited. That’s why I’m here.”

Leona’s eyes narrow as he processes this, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. “So that’s why your magic didn’t cause blot. And why you’ve been so secretive.”

“Yes,” you admit. “I didn’t want to complicate things. I just wanted to be normal here.”

Leona lets out a scoff, running a hand through his hair. “Normal? In this place? You should’ve known better, herbivore. Especially being around me.”

You sigh, leaning back against the tree trunk. “I know. I should’ve told you sooner. But I didn’t want you to see me as just another royal.”

Leona gives you a sidelong glance, his lips curling into a lazy smirk. “Another royal? Like I care about all that. I’m barely interested in my own kingdom’s politics. Why would I give a damn about yours?”

You blink, momentarily stunned. “Wait, really?”

He shrugs, lying back down in the grass, his arm draped lazily over his eyes. “Look, princess or not, you’re still you. That’s what matters. And as for that mission of yours—” he lifts his arm to peer at you, “—I’m not getting involved in that mess unless I absolutely have to.”

You laugh softly, relieved that he’s taking this much better than you expected. “Thanks, Leona.”

He grunts in response, already seeming half-asleep again. “Whatever. Just don’t make me do extra work.”

You smile, lying back beside him, your heart lighter now that the truth is out. Somehow, you knew Leona wouldn’t care about your title. He’s never been one to get caught up in the pomp and circumstance of royalty. But now, with him beside you, it feels like maybe this mission won’t be so impossible after all.

Azul Ashengrotto

You sit in Azul’s office at the Mostro Lounge, the sleek furniture and polished surfaces doing little to ease the anxiety swirling in your chest. The letter from your family rests on the table between you, the wax seal broken. Azul hasn’t opened it yet, but you can see the curiosity in his eyes.

Azul likes to know everything. He likes to have control, to understand the pieces in play so he can manipulate the board to his advantage. And now, here you are, about to shatter his carefully constructed perception of you.

“So,” Azul begins, his voice smooth as ever, though you can hear the underlying tension, “what’s in the letter?”

You swallow, glancing down at the envelope before meeting his gaze. “It’s… from my family. My real family.”

Azul’s eyes narrow slightly, the faintest hint of suspicion creeping into his expression. “Go on.”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “I’m not just a transfer student from another world, Azul. I’m a Crown Princess. Of an empire far across the sea. We haven’t had contact with Twisted Wonderland in over two hundred years.”

Azul’s eyebrows shoot up, surprise flickering across his usually composed face. “A princess?” he repeats, his voice laced with disbelief. “You? Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” you admit. “I just wanted to fit in. To be… normal.”

Azul stares at you for a long moment, his sharp mind already racing through the implications. “And the magic you used to stop my overblot���?”

“It’s my kingdom’s magic,” you explain. “It’s pure energy, uncontaminated by blot. That’s why it didn’t corrupt me.”

Azul’s fingers tap lightly against the arm of his chair as he considers your words. “So, you’ve been keeping this from me the entire time.”

“I didn’t want to complicate things,” you say, your voice soft. “I didn’t want you to treat me any differently.”

Azul lets out a soft chuckle, though there’s an edge to it. “You didn’t want to complicate things? Darling, you’re a Crown Princess from a lost empire with magic that doesn’t generate blot. Things were already complicated.”

You wince, but he’s not wrong. You knew keeping this secret wouldn’t last forever, but you had hoped for a little more time.

“And this letter?” Azul gestures to the unopened envelope. “What does it say?”

“It’s from my family,” you explain. “They’re reminding me of my mission. The reason the Dark Mirror pulled me here.”

Azul’s curiosity sharpens, his eyes gleaming with interest. “Mission? What mission?”

You take a breath, steadying yourself. “Our magic—my kingdom’s magic—was lost to this land centuries ago. The Dark Mirror believes it’s time to reunite it with Twisted Wonderland’s magic. That’s why I’m here.”

Azul leans forward, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers. “Reunite the magic? How exactly do you plan to do that?”

You shake your head. “I’m still figuring that out. But… it’s why I was brought here. And why I used my magic during the overblots. I was trying to restore balance.”

Azul’s gaze lingers on you, and you can practically see the gears turning in his mind. “I see. This… changes things.”

You tilt your head, unsure of what he means. “Changes things how?”

Azul’s lips curl into a sly smile. “Well, if you’re a princess, that means you have access to resources. Power. Connections. I imagine there’s a great deal of opportunity in this… alliance.”

You sigh, giving him a wry smile. “Always thinking about business, aren’t you?”

Azul chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “It’s what I do best. But—” his expression softens slightly, and he meets your gaze, “—I won’t push you. Not on this. It’s… a lot to take in.”

You relax a little, grateful for his understanding. “Thank you.”

Azul nods, though the calculating glint never fully leaves his eyes. “Of course. Just… keep me informed. I’d hate to be left in the dark again.”

You laugh softly, but there’s a sense of relief in your chest. The truth is out, and while Azul is already scheming, you know he won’t push you too far. At least, not yet.

And for now, that’s enough.

Jamil Viper

Living in Scarabia means heat, sand, and secrets. You and Jamil have grown close—close enough that hiding your own secret from him has become a heavy burden. He’s already shared so much with you, trusted you with his frustrations, his ambitions, his deepest thoughts. It’s only fair you do the same.

The two of you sit in the common room of Scarabia, the afternoon heat baking the walls outside. Jamil is making tea, his movements precise and efficient, while you fidget with the letter in your lap. He’s been keeping an eye on you, even though he hasn’t said anything yet.

You can feel it in the air—he knows something’s up.

Finally, as he pours the tea, Jamil’s eyes flick over to the envelope in your hands. “You’ve been staring at that for a while now,” he says casually, though there’s an edge of curiosity in his voice. “Care to share what’s on your mind?”

You hesitate, but you know it’s time. You can’t keep this from him any longer. “It’s… from my family,” you begin carefully, watching his reaction. “My real family.”

Jamil’s brow furrows slightly as he takes a seat across from you. “Real family?”

You nod, the words heavy on your tongue. “I’ve been keeping something from you, Jamil. Something big.”

His gaze sharpens, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. “I’m listening.”

You take a deep breath. “I’m not just a transfer student from another world. I’m the Crown Princess of an empire across the sea. We’ve been isolated from Twisted Wonderland for over two hundred years.”

Jamil’s eyes widen, just for a second, before his expression smooths over into something more neutral. He sets his tea down carefully, though you can see his mind racing. “A princess.”

“Yes,” you say, your voice steadying. “I didn’t want anyone to know. I wanted to live normally here.”

Jamil leans back, crossing his arms. “So, why tell me now?”

“Because I trust you,” you admit. “And… because there’s more.”

Jamil’s eyes narrow slightly. “More?”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “The reason I’m here… the Dark Mirror brought me here to reunite my empire’s magic with Twisted Wonderland’s. Our magic is different—purer. It doesn’t generate blot, and it’s powerful. That’s the magic I used to stop your overblot.”

Jamil is silent for a long moment, processing your words. You can see the tension in his posture, the way he’s trying to make sense of everything you’ve just told him. “So, all this time… you’ve been hiding this from everyone.”

“Yes,” you say softly. “I didn’t want you to think of me differently.”

He lets out a small, humorless laugh. “Differently? You’re a princess from a lost empire, wielding magic that could change the entire world. Of course I’m going to think of you differently.”

Your heart sinks at his words, but Jamil quickly shakes his head, as if realizing how harsh he sounded. “I mean… it’s a lot to take in. But I get why you kept it a secret.”

You exhale in relief. “Thank you.”

Jamil’s gaze softens, though there’s still a guarded look in his eyes. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“If this mission of yours… if it starts to get dangerous, tell me. Don’t keep me in the dark.”

You smile, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “I promise.”

Jamil nods, his expression still thoughtful as he takes another sip of tea. “Good. Now, about this magic of yours… I’m guessing you’re not just going to leave it at that, are you?”

You laugh softly. “No, I’m still figuring it out. But I’ll keep you posted.”

Jamil smirks, leaning forward. “You’d better.”

Vil Schoenheit

Of all the people you’ve hidden your secret from, you think Vil is the one who would be the least surprised by the truth. He’s always been perceptive, always seen through the facades people try to present. And yet, as you sit in the elegant parlor of Pomefiore, you feel more nervous than ever.

The letter from your family rests on the table in front of you, its royal seal broken but the weight of its contents still pressing heavily on your mind. Vil sits across from you, perfectly poised as ever, sipping tea with the grace of someone who expects perfection in every aspect of life.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Vil remarks, his violet eyes fixed on you. “Something troubling you, darling?”

You swallow, your fingers twitching nervously. “There’s… something I need to tell you.”

Vil raises an elegant brow, setting his teacup down with a soft clink. “Oh?”

You take a deep breath. “It’s about who I really am.”

Vil leans back slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Go on.”

“I’m not just a transfer student from another world,” you begin, the words heavy on your tongue. “I’m the Crown Princess of an empire across the sea. An empire that hasn’t had contact with Twisted Wonderland in over two hundred years.”

For the briefest moment, you see a flicker of surprise in Vil’s eyes before his expression smooths back into its usual composed elegance. “A Crown Princess,” he repeats, as if tasting the words. “Well, that certainly explains a few things.”

You blink, caught off guard by his calm reaction. “Wait… you’re not surprised?”

Vil smiles, though there’s a sharpness to it. “I suspected there was more to you than met the eye. You’ve always carried yourself with a certain… grace. It makes sense now.”

You let out a small laugh, relief flooding through you. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you figured something out.”

Vil’s smile softens, and he tilts his head slightly. “But why tell me now? Why reveal this secret after all this time?”

“Because it’s not just about me being a princess,” you say, your voice more serious now. “There’s a mission. The Dark Mirror brought me here to reunite my empire’s magic with Twisted Wonderland’s. Our magic is different—purer. It doesn’t generate blot. That’s the magic I used to stop the overblots.”

Vil’s eyes narrow slightly, his gaze sharpening. “So that’s how you managed to stop those overblots without succumbing to the corruption.”

You nod. “Yes. But it’s more than that. I was sent here to restore balance. To reunite the magic of our two worlds.”

Vil is silent for a moment, his gaze thoughtful as he processes this new information. “I see. That’s quite the responsibility.”

You sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Tell me about it.”

Vil watches you for a long moment, his eyes flicking over you as if assessing something. Then, with a graceful movement, he reaches across the table and takes your hand in his. “You’ve carried this secret for long enough. I imagine it’s been a heavy burden.”

You nod, feeling the warmth of his hand against yours. “It has.”

Vil’s gaze softens, and for a moment, you see a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes. “You’re not alone in this. If this mission is as important as you say, then you’ll need support. And I intend to be that support.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you squeeze his hand gently. “Thank you, Vil. That means a lot.”

Vil smiles, a genuine smile this time, free of the sharp edges he usually wears. “Of course, darling. Now, about this magic of yours… I imagine it’s quite powerful.”

You chuckle softly. “You have no idea.”

Vil’s eyes gleam with curiosity, and you can tell that he’s already thinking about the possibilities. “Then perhaps it’s time we start planning. After all, if you’re going to reunite the magic of two worlds, you’ll need to do it with style.”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Vil.”

And as you sit there, your hands still intertwined, you realize that with Vil by your side, this mission might just be possible after all.

Idia Shroud

You’ve always known Idia Shroud to be an enigma wrapped in blue flames and social anxiety. It’s what made him so interesting to you. His genius and quirks drew you in, even if he spent more time online than in the real world. You started off as friends, but somewhere along the way, things changed. Despite his reclusive nature, you’d found yourself growing closer to him, enough to know there’s something deeper between you two now.

But you’ve been keeping a secret from him. A huge secret. And today, sitting in his dorm room, surrounded by the blue light of his computer screens, you feel that familiar anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

You glance over at Idia, who’s completely absorbed in some new game. His fingers move with lightning speed across the keyboard, his eyes flickering with concentration. “Hey, Idia,” you start, keeping your tone casual, but your hands feel clammy.

He doesn’t look up from his game but hums, acknowledging you. “Hmm? Yeah?”

You take a deep breath. “I need to tell you something.”

He pauses the game—actually pauses it—and turns in his chair, looking at you, his eyes wide with curiosity and maybe a little bit of nervousness. “Uh, this sounds like a boss-level conversation. What’s up?”

You fidget, trying to find the right words. “I’m… not exactly who you think I am. I’m not just a student here at NRC. I’m actually the Crown Princess of an empire across the sea.”

For a second, Idia just stares at you, and you can almost see the gears in his brain grinding to a halt. Then, very slowly, he says, “You’re… what now?”

“A princess,” you repeat, feeling awkward under his intense stare. “My empire hasn’t made contact with Twisted Wonderland in over two hundred years. The Dark Mirror brought me here because I’m supposed to reunite the magic of my empire with this world’s magic.”

Idia blinks. Then he blinks again. “So… you’re like, a real-life anime protagonist?” He tilts his head, and his eyes widen even further. “Wait—does that make me… the side character? Or am I the support role??”

You can’t help but smile at his reaction, a mix of disbelief and excitement. “You’re more important than that, Idia. And there’s more. The magic I have—it’s different. It doesn’t generate blot. I used it to help stop your overblot.”

The room goes silent, except for the quiet hum of his computers. Idia’s mouth drops open, and his hair flares a little brighter, flickering with blue flames. “Wha—huh?! You did what?!”

“I used my empire’s magic,” you repeat, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s pure energy, and I used it to pull you out of your overblot. It’s part of why I’m here. I’m supposed to reunite this lost magic with Twisted Wonderland.”

Idia runs a hand through his hair, looking like he’s about to have a full system crash. “Hold on, hold on. So, you’re a princess, with special magic, and you saved me with it? Like, an actual OP protagonist moment?!”

“Well… yeah, I guess,” you say, chuckling at his reaction. “It wasn’t exactly easy, but…”

“You’re insane,” he blurts out, his voice somewhere between awe and disbelief. “I mean—cool! But also totally insane. This is like something straight out of an otome game or a fantasy RPG. And you’ve been hiding this the whole time?!”

You rub the back of your neck, feeling a bit sheepish. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Idia’s fingers twitch at his sides, and he turns back to his desk, muttering something under his breath. “A real princess… crazy… and you saved me with magic… seriously, this is like level 99 plot stuff.”

You can’t help but smile, feeling a bit lighter now that the truth is out. “So… you’re not mad I didn’t tell you sooner?”

He spins back around, shaking his head. “Mad? No way. I mean, okay, a little blindsided, but this is cool. Way cooler than anything I’ve ever played! And—wait—” He pauses, eyes narrowing, “Does this mean I have to start bowing or something? I don’t do that royal etiquette stuff.”

You laugh. “No, Idia. You don’t have to bow.”

His shoulders visibly relax, and he sighs in relief. “Good. ‘Cause, yeah, not happening.”

There’s a moment of silence as Idia processes everything, his brain probably running a million calculations at once. Then, very quietly, he says, “You really saved me, huh?”

You nod, feeling a soft warmth spread through you. “Yeah. I couldn’t let you go.”

Idia looks down, his cheeks flushing pink, his flames flickering more erratically. “Th-thanks. I guess… I owe you, big time.”

You smile, reaching out to gently take his hand. “You don’t owe me anything, Idia. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He glances at your hand in his, eyes wide, and then back up at you. “So, uh… does this make me, like, your royal confidant or something? Sidekick? Player two?”

You laugh again, squeezing his hand. “How about just you? That’s more than enough.”

Idia blushes harder, his hair flaring a bright blue, but a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Okay… I guess I can live with that.”

As you sit together in the soft glow of his room, the weight of your secret finally lifted, you feel like everything is falling into place. Maybe the Dark Mirror knew what it was doing after all.

Malleus Draconia

The air in the halls of Diasomnia feels different today, charged with a strange energy. Malleus Draconia, the formidable heir to the Thorn Fairy legacy, has always held an aura of mystery, but you’ve come to know him as someone who protects his friends fiercely. You’ve grown closer with him, and the bond you share has blossomed into something deeper.

But there’s one truth that still lies between you—your identity as a princess from a lost empire. You’ve kept it hidden for so long, but now it feels like the right moment to reveal your true self.

As you and Malleus stroll through the gardens, the sun setting in a blaze of colors, you decide it’s time. You can feel your heart racing, but the beauty of the moment encourages you.

“Malleus,” you say, breaking the comfortable silence that’s enveloped you both. “There’s something important I need to share with you.”

His emerald eyes focus on you, curiosity piqued. “What is it, my dear?”

You take a deep breath. “I’m not just a student here. I’m the Crown Princess of an empire across the sea, and I’ve come to reunite the magic of my empire with Twisted Wonderland’s magic.”

For a moment, Malleus is silent, his expression unreadable. “A princess?” he finally says, his voice low and smooth. “Is this why you have been avoiding the subject of your past?”

You nod, feeling vulnerable under his gaze. “Yes. I didn’t want it to change how you see me.”

Malleus tilts his head slightly, his long horns catching the light. “You think I would judge you for your title? You are the same person I care for, no matter your origins.”

A rush of warmth floods through you. “Thank you, Malleus. I was worried you might think I was hiding something from you.”

His expression softens, and he takes a step closer. “You carry a great burden, and it is only fair that you share it with those who hold you dear. But there is more, is there not?”

You bite your lip, hesitant. “Yes. The Dark Mirror brought me here for a reason. I must reunite our two magics—the magic of my empire, which has been lost to time, and the magic of Twisted Wonderland.”

His eyes gleam with interest, and he nods slowly. “And you possess this magic?”

“I do. It’s pure energy that doesn’t generate blot. I used it to help stop your overblot.”

Malleus’s expression shifts from curiosity to admiration. “You wield such power? That is remarkable.”

You feel a rush of pride at his words, but also an ache of vulnerability. “I want to do this, Malleus. I want to restore balance and reunite our worlds.”

He takes your hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. “Then you shall not do it alone. I will stand by your side, and together we shall see this through.”

Your heart swells at his support, and you nod, feeling a sense of determination wash over you. “Thank you, Malleus. That means the world to me.”

As the sun sets behind you, casting a golden hue over the garden, you realize that you are no longer alone in this mission. With Malleus by your side, the path ahead feels bright and full of possibilities.

Ruggie Bucchi

Life at NRC is never boring, especially when you’ve got Ruggie Bucchi at your side. Dating Ruggie had been an unexpected twist of fate—he was sly, resourceful, and could charm his way out of any situation. Plus, his loyalty and sharp wit made him someone you could always rely on. And after Leona’s overblot, when you had used your strange, powerful magic to stop him, you and Ruggie had become even closer.

But there was something you hadn’t told him. Something that’s been weighing on your mind. Sitting on the worn couch in Savanaclaw’s lounge, you glance over at Ruggie, who’s happily munching on some snacks he’d stolen from the kitchen.

“Hey, Ruggie,” you begin, feeling a knot form in your stomach. “Can we talk about something?”

He looks up, still chewing. “What’s up?” His tone is casual, but his sharp eyes pick up on your serious expression. “You look like you’re about to drop some heavy news.”

You take a deep breath. There’s no easy way to say this. “So… remember how I stopped Leona’s overblot? How I used magic that wasn’t from this world?”

Ruggie stops chewing, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, how could I forget? You were shining like the sun and stopped him without a scratch. Pretty wild stuff.”

You swallow. “There’s a reason for that. I’m not from Twisted Wonderland, but that’s not the whole story. I’m actually a princess—the Crown Princess—of an empire across the sea. The magic I used is the lost magic of my empire, and the Dark Mirror pulled me here to reunite it with this world’s magic.”

Ruggie freezes, the snack he’s holding slipping from his fingers. For a moment, he just stares at you, blinking. Then he bursts out laughing. “Ha! Good one! You really had me for a sec there.”

But when you don’t laugh back, his chuckles die out. “Wait, you’re serious? You’re… a princess?”

You nod, feeling the weight of your confession settle between you. “Yeah. The Dark Mirror brought me here because it’s time to reconnect our magic with Twisted Wonderland’s. It’s my mission.”

Ruggie blinks again, his mouth hanging open slightly. “You’ve gotta be kidding me…” He rubs his head, as if trying to process everything. “You’re telling me I’ve been dating royalty this whole time?”

“Well, technically, yes.” You manage a small smile. “Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

Ruggie is silent for a moment, his brow furrowed as if he’s trying to compute what you’ve just said. Then, with a sly grin, he leans back against the couch. “Well, I guess I always knew I had good taste. Didn’t think I’d end up with a princess, though. What’re the odds?”

You laugh, feeling the tension in your chest loosen slightly. “Does it… bother you?”

He shakes his head, though he still looks a little dazed. “Nah. I mean, it’s a lot to take in, but I’ve always been good at rolling with the punches. If anything, it explains a lot about you. That magic of yours is on a whole different level.”

You sigh in relief. “I was worried you’d think it was too much.”

Ruggie grins, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “Too much? Nah. I mean, I’ve dealt with Leona for years, right? Besides, this just means I gotta up my game. Can’t have a princess thinking I’m slacking off.”

You roll your eyes. “As if you’ve ever slacked off.”

He smirks, but then his expression softens. “But for real… you stopping Leona’s overblot? That was something else. I’ve never seen magic like that. You saved him.”

You nod. “It’s the magic of my empire. It doesn’t generate blot. It’s pure energy. I’ve been trying to figure out how to use it properly, but it’s… a lot.”

Ruggie leans back, stretching his arms behind his head. “Well, sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you. But hey, you’ve got me now. I’ll make sure you don’t burn out or anything.”

You smile at him, feeling a wave of affection wash over you. “Thanks, Ruggie. I really appreciate it.”

He winks. “Anything for you, Princess.”

You playfully punch his arm, but you can’t help the warmth that spreads through you. Despite everything, Ruggie always knows how to make you feel at ease.

As the day goes on, you both continue lounging around the dorm, the weight of your confession already feeling lighter. And as you sit there with Ruggie, you can’t help but feel grateful that, out of everyone, it’s him by your side.

Later, when you return to your room, you find yourself thinking about everything that’s happened since you arrived at NRC—the overblots, your magic, the Dark Mirror’s mission. You’ve been carrying this secret for so long, but now that Ruggie knows, it feels like a burden has been lifted.

But then you remember the rest of your mission. You have to reunite your magic with Twisted Wonderland’s, and that’s no small feat.

Still, with Ruggie by your side, you feel like you can handle whatever comes next.

Masterlist

[mgu-h]

a bookkeeper for the people, thank you for your services 🫡

aww im just glad other people are crazy about them too!! i also keep track of things i heard repeatedly from both max and lando, or representative phrases, in order to make their dialogue sound better. if anyone is interested in some nortrell vocabulary quirks (and additional nortrell research and analysis):

phrases they both use:

That’s mint

You muppet

Let’s go!!!!

Waffling

[Anything], mate

Cheers, bro

We’ve sussed it

You idiot

Fuck off

Knob, knobhead

Bloke, brev/bruv

~Very good very nice~

Scavs (Tarkov)

Fluked it (golf)

GGs, chat

lando specifically:

‘Cause

[something], baby

C’mon Maxy boy

Oh my godt

Mega

It smells to / tastes to

Frickin’, freaking (less so now, he says fuck these days, but in the past he tended to avoid it)

[Indeterminate happy Lando noises]

[Annoying tapping or leg bouncing]

Nugget

Numpty

Joker

That's naughty

Why? (demanding)

Moron

Twat

[Criticizes himself sarcastically in the 3rd person]

max specifically:

Horrendous

Look at the state of you

Fucking hell, mate

For fuck’s sake

Jesus Christ

[repeats himself until Lando acknowledges what he said]

Shut the fuck up, I’m done

That is good, I'll give you that

Normal, normally

Don’t pull that face, none of that

Pal, buddy

Brilliant

No chance

We’ll fall out

That’s crap

What is wrong with you

All right!

It’s doing my fucking head in  

An absolute fucking shocker 

Are you mental

Fair play

Good lad

Honestly

Brother (calls Lando this)

other references (longer quotes, an argument transcript, relative bio of teen years, lando analysis):

Lando, mouth full, trying to communicate through just noises “mmm… mhhph mmmf” Max replies “I normally understand those to a degree, but that was another level” 

Max loses his patience “Stop, like why are you tapping so loud. You know what you’re really good at? Finding a fucking annoying noise to make, and then just constantly doing it.”

Lando said, “I don’t have it, Max.” Max replied, “The fact that you said my name there means you’re trying to lie or something, that’s weird, you don’t normally say that”

Lando said, “One of the things I hate the most is being bad at something.” 

[If you in any way question Max’s fashion or make a comment about his hair he will spiral and say] “Wha’ d’you mean?”

After Max ends the unhinged “golden cock” Sergei/Alexander banter, Lando tries to get back to the game, his voice returned to normal, and Max is incredulous. “Don’t just come in here like "what’s next?" all normal, like nothing happened.”

Max told Lando he would be “back in 27 seconds” because "i needed him to know i'd thought about exactly how long i would be gone before i left, instead of saying 30 seconds, which could mean anything,"

Max saw Lando before he knew him, he doesn’t remember why he was at the karting track, Lando was driving around in a little kart, he was “just tiny, mate,“ nine years old. Max even remembers the black and orange helmet Lando’d been wearing, and he just watched him for a few laps. (“You were just watching?” / “Yeah someone said, that kid won, or something.” / “I never won a race in cadets” / “They must have just said you were fast”) bankai asked: “have you been following bob around since he was nine” and max says “original fanboy”

Max talking about watching an unboxed with Lando, “I like watching them, but it is weird seeing you in them.” “Why?” “I dunno… just, I don’t know. Just don’t see you as that ‘F1 Driver,’ it’s weird. It’s just different for me.”—[Lando laughs]—“They are cool.”

Max taking too long to come back to the game, Lando sounded mad. “Stop fucking kissing her, Max, and hurry the fuck up.”

Monaco argument >> In a Dec 2021 stream, (chat called Max Lando's dog and his wag, he refuted both claims), they had an argument about max moving to monaco, lando insisting he's protecting max from being lonely and max telling him HE'LL get lonely. max claiming being alone in monaco wouldn't even bother him if he's streaming and offering to take care of the house. lando denying him, saying he's taking care of max and max's slightly sullen "thanks mate" and his Jokes like "chat, he doesn't want me there. he's ditched me. it's over. relationship's over. it's done." like the energy of the entire conversation is that they've had it many times before and max is not easy and compliant with lando leaving him behind, but lando is not listening because he's sure he knows better

Lando yelling at Max to kill a scav, Max did, but not fast enough, Lando was muttering under his breath and Max paused to take out an earbud, "Are you giving me attitude?" and then when Lando continued to bitch, mimed throwing the water from Lando's waterbottle on him

Lando ranting on iRacing in Sept 2024 that "people in racing think you never have to back out, no matter what, like that's somehow become a rule" (in iracing? he was asked) "no, in real life as well. Somehow it's become a Thing that you never have to back out, you're somehow always in the right."

Max saying "I don't want to be alone again" about getting into a different heat on iRacing and Lando singing back "story of my life..."

Lando will say things like "Look at my perfection, look at how well I do or did, I was unstoppable," other bragging just to piss Max off

Yes / No / Yes / No arguments (they just say the same statements with different and more pointed inflection each time as if to make the other person accept by force of will without any actual convincing or argument, just emphasis, as if the one who is more certain will win and the more unsure one will yield the point and pivot to a new one or end the argument. one of them always yields and pivots after a few back-and-forths)

Lando says Max is "struggling be cause he's not been kissed in the last five minutes" and that in his group chat "I record every time they kiss in public" (Max protests that he just makes the number up, like the time he said they'd kissed 44 times before 10am and Lando said "I swear it's true") and that he "can't describe how awkward it is going around with Max because he's freaking kissing" and like Lando will be driving the car in the front and all he can hear is wet kissing sounds from behind him.

Lando said about Max kissing "He just goes in so fast, you know like all the nerds you see on the movies where they kind of shut their eyes and like" he mimicked both Max sticking out his tongue and making exaggerated Mwah sounds

Max said Lando often struggles at golf but "every two months or so he'll have a blinder, and then he'll be in absolute turmoil again"

the whole recurring bit with them sharing a wardrobe, the Quadrant video with the "whose shoes are those?" "whose joggers are those? "whose hoodie is that?" bit, something the fact that it kept going even after they moved apart like in singapore 2022 lando claims max is wearing his pants, shoes, and top, and max denies it

Lando listens to the voice notes he gets in DMs and goes through them, sometimes with his mates, to laugh. He says sometimes they're very weird, that "Some people are up to no good in their lives and need to focus on.... other things... but they are funny, they are just weird. The voice notes always make me laugh."

Lando interview with Tom Daley->"I am a competitive guy and I hate losing. So you put that all together and I love being in control. I hate being out of control, so like I hate being a passenger in a car. I really hate it unless I'm like backseat you know headphones on watching a movie. I'm a terrible terrible passenger cuz I don't feel in control of of what's happening."

Max in July 2021 checking to make sure Lando wasn't watching his stream before saying "I gotta give my hats off to Lando for helping me, obviously with streaming, Quadrant, giving me a bit of purpose this year, you know, something to do and enjoy doing while I'm not racing, keep my mind off things, so yeah thanks to him... he's looked after me. I appreciate that."

Random Facts

By April 2023, Max had never seen Star Wars. By April 2025, Max had never seen any of the Harry Potter moves. He's seen a couple of Lord of the Rings though

Lando wears size 9 shoes or 8.5, he said his feet were a tiny bit bigger than Max's, but who knows if he's telling the truth about that as they can share shoes

When asked what animal he would reincarnate as, Lando said hippopotamus and Max said sea urchin (so he can he in the ocean and stab people when they step on you) or plankton 

Lando always tries to get off the plane fast, impatient, walking quickly, doesn’t like getting stuck behind people

Lando said Mcdonalds chicken nuggets may be the best things ever made

Lando used to play around with a lighter

Max drinks tea quite strong, he's mentioned drinking whiskey sours

There were periods when Lando was younger where he’d play games for 36 hours straight

Max's eyes are green, Lando's are blue gray (when he built his VR character he gave it blue eyes) but have some golden brown threads in the middle that I think can make them seem greenish in some lights

Lando likes to travel with a book to look smart but he never reads it just carries it around or puts it on the table.

Lando snores loudly and people have complained about it

Max likes cats despite being allergic, Lando likes dogs more

Lando's brother's dog is named Uno. Max had a cats named Lala growing up. His family has a cat named Bobby (not after Lando, allegedly).

Lando likes to wear hoodies because they make his long neck less noticeable

Lando travels heavy with every possible bag, shoe bag, rucksack, all his computer stuff (“Im such a nerd”). He's got a tablet for movies and some games, work emails but he rarely checks those 

Lando smells like Sure deodorant, and a mix of Louis Vuitton L'Immensite, Tom Ford Ombré Leather, and Dior Sauvage. He likes the smell of all of them so he puts them all on.

Lando works harder on strengthening his neck compared to some other drivers, as others can rest their head against the side while turning to deal with the G-forces, but if Lando tries that and gets his eyes off-level, he can't drive. His brain doesn't like it.

Lando will nap and his neck will be at a 90 degree angle

Max's birthday is July 29 and Lando's is November 13, both 1999

Here's the link to the bios of people who show up in Max's chat

When Lando was around 13-14yo he would spend days on designs for stickers for people's phones or visors, and would go around the paddock in karting trying to sell them to earn a little money.

Lando's favorite gifts are really big paintings people have done that he can put on his walls

When asked what kind of dad he wanted to be, he said "strict" in terms of manners and having good respectful values

In 2024 Max could check Lando's sleep stats because they're in a group with their whoop bands

Max is fine with chopsticks for everything but rice

On stream Max said that when he was at peak fitness as a driver, when he was so strong and also so light, at max he did a plank for up to 6min

Back in the days where Max used to party more, after a night out he would get back in the early hours and always order a McMuffin, he needed the McMuffin to sleep. He's stopped doing that now

Relative Biographies

So Lando’s dad’s British and his mom is from Belgium, not that it matters but I think he was raised somewhere in the country near Glastonbury in Somerset. He has an older brother and two younger sisters. Max’s parents are also from the UK but he spent his youngest years in Singapore and Malaysia, his dad’s in finance. He has a younger brother.

Max started karting in Asia, and started winning everything there, just like crazy talented and obsessed with racing. His parents decided to move back to the UK largely to let him get on the European karting track (the only one that really matters to get to the highest tiers of motorsport). He moved back to the UK when he was like 9 or 10 to kart.  I think I saw that he was homeschooled, so basically all in on karting.

While Max and Lando started karting together in 2010 with Ricky Flynn Motorsport, Max said he remembers seeing Lando practicing before they met, so back in 2009 soon after moving to the UK. They spent a lot of those formative years of 10-13 together, traveling all over for races and competing against each other. Lando became the youngest karting world champion in 2013, and Max was not, but he was competitive and they were on the podium together at that time.

Lando moved up to car racing in 2014, but Max did not. It took until 2015 for him. Lando was younger than him, but already ahead. It’s hard to overstate just how fast Lando shot up through the lower ranks to the very highest tier of motorsport by the time he was 18, with McLaren putting him on teams with Fernando Alonso and things. He won everything he tried on the first attempt and moved up. Max’s career was respectable, but it wasn’t like that. 

In 2015 Max started racing single-seaters, and Lando won British F4, and started going abroad and started winning there too, in Italy, in New Zealand. Max wasn’t there yet. In 2016 Max did British F4 with Carlin, a good team, winning the championship at the final race at Brands Hatch. Lando won Formula Renault, among other things. He won a couple awards at Motorsport Awards.

In 2017 Max’s first year of Formula Renault was mixed, winning the rookies’ title but was not super high in the championship, meanwhile Lando won F3.

The next year Max switched to a more successful team and did win the Eurocup in 2018, and got into the Renault driver academy. Lando got second in F2, despite leading most of the season, because of some unfortunate DNFs later in the season, George won. He was also on reserve for McLaren and drove in a F1 practice session.

In 2019 Max drove in F3, got a couple of podium finishes, but got 10th overall. 2019 of course was Lando’s first season in F1 and the birth of the Carlando juggernaut, he was a very successful rookie and rising star. He was streaming on Twitch more regularly, and got Max to set up his own Twitch channel in September 2019, to as few as like 15 viewers, playing games and hanging out with chat and Lando’s building a platform there too,

In 2020 Max raced in F3 again, but he dropped out before the end of the season, and has said that he struggled with depression. He moved back in with his parents. Lando got first F1 podium and had a great year, got huge on twitch, and he founded quadrant, became CEO of his little brand media company thing. I think he was living alone in his house in Woking. 

2021 Lando’s career continues to do well, podiums and things. He almost wins at Sochi but misjudged the wet tires and slid in a really heartbreaking final laps thing. I don’t know what Max was up to early in the year, I suspect kind of aimless playing golf and streaming on Twitch and figuring things out, but by the middle of the year, Lando announced him as part of quadrant and had Max move in with him. 

They streamed together and were stupid domestic, sharing clothes sometimes. I think they were both single at the beginning but had girlfriends by the end of their time together. Living together ended at the end of the year before Lando moved to Monaco and refused to bring Max along because he didn’t want to be lonely even though Max obviously really wanted to come and even offered to like take care of the house etc. Just a wild convo they had on stream in Dec 2021. 

Lando Analysis

SO on one hand, lando's a simple guy in his mid-twenties with ordinary human needs, like he needs to eat, sleep, be active, play games, socialize, race, etc. he travels and stays fit, drives the car, parties and rests. most of the time he's not in distress. he enjoys life and gets to do lots of cool things. on the other hand, he’s a seething mess of ego and insecurities with complex emotional needs.

his ego is pretty big, like despite being humble about it, he knows he’s one of the best in the world at an incredibly strenuous and glamorous activity. he has the confidence it requires to get behind the wheel of an F1 car and risk all that danger to defeat legendary champions. he didn't win for a long time, but he bought into the mclaren project and stuck it out there for long enough to win.

he also has the confidence (and money) to start a company, the insight and experience about the internet to build a brand, all his years online taught him a great deal, and he has a large team of smart people around him helping him succeed. he's very young, but has quite a lot of power and authority and attention.

his ego is a bit brittle though, naturally, and there are ways in which he is vulnerable to spiraling. there are lots of reasons for that. he feels inferiority and anxiety about making people happy, and he turns inward and is intensely self-critical.

he definitely used to be small, with a big, cool older brother, in the middle with younger sisters. he has very loving and supportive parents who helped him do what he wanted to do, giving him a bedrock belief that he’s loved and special. while he gained some close friends through karting, but he was kind of a loner as a teen, a gamer, introverted and a little bit weird, until he got older and more social, getting with girls etc.

i think he's said he’s dyslexic, not interested in school, but not at all stupid, which must've been frustrating. he hates being bad at things and will try very hard to avoid it. he wants people to be happy, to please them and be accepted by them. i think he probably learned to be annoying to beg for attention, but he doesn’t want too much attention now he’s famous, or he only wants attention from a small number of people he holds close.

he just didn’t win while for a long time when he was very small, and that was formative. he didn’t really believe he could, but he did the work without having the expectation of success, because he enjoyed it yes but also i suspect as if openly wanting it would make it disappear, almost walking backward into success. even now he doesn't think of the end result, but just about what he has to do next and tries to make that as good as possible.

[analysis of lando's size kink here]

Example Argument Transcript (from here):

Max reads chat question, “Who’s better at golf?”

Lando brags. “I absolutely dominated today on the golf course.”

“But, would you say, like—”

Lando talks over him. “And, as they say in life, you’re only good, as good, as your last game.” 

Max rolls his eyes and Lando shrugs like the point he made was obvious and he won.

“You done?” Max asks.

“I mean, I have no more… that was like a mic drop moment, mate. That’s like my mic just dropped. There’s nothing else to say.”

There's a long pause. Lando grins like he knows he’s being annoying. 

Max can't let it lie. “But you said I am actually better than you.” 

“Yeah, well you were. Until today.” 

Max smiles with his mouth not his eyes. Lando grins too. 

“I love how you’re actually going to commit to saying ‘Yeah, you are,’ and then you realize—”

“I AM better.” 

“You’re not!” Max slaps his waterbottle against his hand for emphasis. 

“Today, I was better, mate.”

“Today, yes.” 

“If today was the world championship, I won.”

“No, but overall, I win more.”

“Well it doesn’t matter though, ‘cause you’re only as good as your last game.” 

“Yeah, ok, you’re going to be that—”

“I’ve made improvements!”

“Are you going to be that stubborn?”

“I’ve made improvements… I’ve just overtaken you in the game of golf.” 

A pause, but Max just can't let that go. “Well I won yesterday.” 

“That’s yesterday. No one cares about yesterday.”

“We didn’t play yesterday, the day before.” 

“No one cares about that.”

“Yeah, but I, like, if we play ten games, I’ll win seven.” 

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No?”

“Yes!”

“Not with how well I’ve been playing la-today.”

“No.”

“Exactly.”

“No—”

“No, you won’t win.” 

“—I’ll win seven.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Yeah, I will!”

“No, you won’t.”

“I will!”

“No, you sliced every single one of your drivers.” 

Max turns his body to face him, looking at him directly. “No, I didn’t.” 

Lando seems gleeful to have gotten the reaction, crowing, “Yes, you did.” And laughing as he said “not one driver! I think you wouldn’t’ve ended up on a fairway!” 

“Yeah I did!”

“When?” 

Max turns back forward with arms crossed, thinking. “On the…”

“Ok, let’s go, let’s do this, chat. First one? No. Second one? No. Third one? Water. Fourth one?”

Max interrupts his rhythm. “Where were you on the third one?”

Lando ignores him. “Where’d your fourth one go?” 

Max repeats himself. “Where were you on the third one?”

Lando concedes. “I also went into the water.”

“There you go, yeah.”

“Once!”

Max affects a deeply sarcastic accent “Acting like Tiger Woods out here.”

“Once! What about all the rest of my drives? That wasn’t even a driver!” 

“No—”

“That wasn’t even a drive, all good.” 

“You were good, you were good with the drive today, I’ll give you that, but you’re not like that normally.”

“That’s what I said. I’ve improved.” 

“Yeah no, you were shocked.” 

“But I have! Improved!”

“Better, but you don’t, you won’t, if we play again tomorrow, you won’t do that.”

“Yes, I will.” 

“No, you won’t.” 

“Yes!”

“No chance.” 

“Yes, mate.”

“I’m going to video your first drive tomorrow. Guarantee it’s right.” 

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll try to hook it so badly—”

Max talks over him saying something else. “It’s not going to be straight. It’s not going to do that.” Max mimes a ball flying straight ahead.

“It will.”

“No chance.” 

“It will!”

“You were even like… oh my god, woah.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause I unlocked something.” 

Intense eye contact. Max smiles, almost predatory. “Yeah? What was that? What’ve you done? Do you remember?”

“Yes, I do!”

“What was it?”

“I’m not going to tell you, ‘cause I don’t want you to get better!”

Max sits up incredulously. “It’s not going to work for my swing. It’s totally different!”

“Well it is!”

“How?”

Lando throws his arm up miming a ball curving in the air. “‘Cause you’re slicing as well!” 

Max sits back and crosses his arms, looking away. 

“This is Max’s shot shape.” Lando mimes a ball shooting forward and curving in front of Max’s face, almost touching him, twice, laughing between and making a loud, adolescent rocket sound, generally being extremely annoying.

“If you do that again, I’m going to draw my hand left across your fuckin face.” 

“You can just do this.” Lando mimes a smacking motion on himself.

“Bosh.” Max pretends to hit him. 

Lando makes a few more rocket sounds.

Max is unable to let it lie. “Normally, you’re not that good.” 

“Yeah, but…”

“Today you were!”

“People improve, Max! People improve! And today, I was unstoppable.” Lando pulls out his cell phone around now, keeping it hidden, and turns on the keyboard clicking sound to prepare to annoy Max a different way.

Max rolls his eyes and repeats the word unstoppable with utmost derision. “Unstoppable… fucking hell, it’s like you’re acting like you hit nine under.” 

“I was unstoppable,” Lando insists. 

“Beat me by like four shots and I played horrendous. Four shots only!”

Lando begins typing and looks up at Max to watch his face, waiting to see him get irritated.

Max glowers straight ahead. “Is that loud enough?”

It does not stop. Max turns to face him again and glares and Lando gives him an impish smile. 

Max says “Stop!” repressively. He reaches for the phone and Lando pulls it back, smiling widely and in an indescribable tone of voice, all the lower registers gone, sounding like he did when he was younger. “I wasn’t even typing anything for the whole thing I was just trying to annoy you.”

They look at each other. Lando said something coy and inaudible.

Max smacks him. “Don’t. Don’t do that!”

Lando cackles.

[dyli-dadi3]

Be My Valentine

When a drop-dead gorgeous girl keeps on coming to your drive-through, it's pretty damn hard not to ask her out. Well, not if you're Leon.

Just a cute lil blurb of Leon awkwardly asking you to be his Valentine. Tags: Fluff, Leon being a cutie. No seriously, he makes me wanna explode.

When Leon handed you your order that one fateful morning, he nearly dropped it. God, you were so pretty it hurt to look at you.

The sun was just rising, casting a warm glow on your skin. Your smile was so bright that he swore you flashed him in the eyes. Or maybe that was the glare from your car as you drove away.

Either way, your face plagued his thoughts. He felt like a fool. He couldn't even remember what lame phrase he uttered as you thanked him. The memory was blurry, and he was honestly thankful for it. He's sure that any chance was lost after you heard him babble like a kid. If you weren't turned off by the fact that he worked at McDonalds.

God, he really had no chance, huh?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The second time you showed up, he was just as surprised. But this time, he ensured he properly handed you your food and wished you a good day. Your smile was rushed, but you thanked him anyway as you sped off.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Every day for the next week you showed up. It quickly became the highlight of his day. Every morning you would order a breakfast combo, and he would be warmed to the core with your kind words and bright smile. He'd make it his mission to be in the drive-through whenever you were supposed to be. It got so bad that his coworkers would always tease him.

"H-Have a nice day, ba-baby!" One of them whispered with a laugh when you drove off.

"Oh, shut it!" Leon's ears began to turn red as he rushed to grab a cup and fill it with Sprite.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He flopped onto his bed, damp hair wetting his pillow as he sighed. He thought about you, as normal for him. But today was different.

It was a week until Valentine's Day, and he couldn't stop thinking of you. He wouldn't kid himself, picking up girls was never his strong suit. Yeah, he somehow finds himself dating 10's, but that doesn't mean he means to! It just... kinda happens.

But he feels so strongly about you. With every little bit of information he gets out of you, he gets more and more invested. Of course, it isn't groundbreaking lore, but it's you and he can't help but find it interesting. He wants to know more.

He spends his nights thinking about what you love and hate, fantasizing about having a real conversation with you and learning everything you're willing to give him. It's maddening.

The thought of being too late, of you finding someone else before him is impossible, so he decides that that won't happen. Not while he's still alive and kicking.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next day comes and he's shaking like a leaf, face pale and so sickly that his manager almost sent him straight home. He pleaded, assuring her that he was fine (bless her heart, she's the only manager that doesn't make him want to rip his hair out).

He waits anxiously in the first window, waiting to see your car drive into the drive-through.

7:30...

7:31...

7:31 and thirty seconds...Oh!

He was gonna throw up, he was sure of it. If he somehow didn't, he was positive that his stupid mouth would slur his words into alphabet soup. God, if he had to repeat himself?!?! That's usually what the person in the car does. God, would you think he's incompetent? You order the same dang thing every day,

In the two seconds that his mind took to tear itself apart, you pulled up to the intercom and rolled down the window.

"Good mo-morning, will you be using the mobile app today?" Fuck.

"No, can I just have my usual order, Leon?" You giggled, the sound making his knees weak despite the shitty intercom system.

Of course you'd laugh at him, you never use the app.

He never got why you didn't. I mean, you're coming here every day, it would save you money. But you would always smile and shake your head whenever he brought it up so he just stopped. He never got why you used cash, either, but he didn't want to start bothering you, so he spent his limited time with you talking about more interesting things.

"Of course, pull up to the first window." He said with furrowed brows. He didn't bother telling you the price, it was still the same as it had always been. But this time, he had something extra to give you.

Soon enough, you were pulling up with your money in your hand. He took the cash and took a deep breath as he did the transaction.

"He's your receipt, " he said, handing you the printed slip of thermal paper. Before you could leave, he turned to you, his face bright red and his hands shaking like he was tweaking, and handed you a box of sweets. "Y-You forgot your change."

Your eyes widened as you took the candy, face flushing as you saw the sticky note taped to the front.

Will you be my Valentine? XXX-XXX-XXXX

Your eyes darted to his, face plastered with that bright smile he adored so much as you nodded.

"I would love to, Le-"

HONK!

[k0nanharv3y]

Robin Hood AU - Part 7 (the part 2 of the part 7 lol)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7.5

"I have a table for 1 free in the corner over there, near the speakers" he explained and pretended not to pay attention to Steph's expression

"In fact, a table for 7...? I brought my family" she stepped aside to reveal the entire herd of black-haired people

And Tim finally acted surprised

"Oh... Oh! Damn, yeah, sure, I'm sorry" he smiled at the family "Welcome to the Nest, what can I get for y'all"

Bruce was the first, with his friendly and playful attitude

"My daughter hasn't stopped talking about this place, its desserts and you. Timothy Drake, right? You were our next door neighbor" Bruce's hand extended over the bar

And Tim learned a few things in his time in the League, and before that, following Batman and that whole episode in his life that (if he's honest with himself, isn't over yet). One of them is, don't let your enemies have your DNA

But this was Bruce Wayne and... and... and it would be rude not to shake the hand of the richest man in Gotham

And apparently he's been looking at Bruce's hand for a long time as if it were an insect

"I don't like physical touch" It was the first thing that escaped from his mouth

And Bruce's face seemed to fall in sorrow, pulling his hand away from Tim, and that brought some peace to the boy

"But, yeah, it's nice to see you again Mr. Wayne" he smiled as best he could "Just Tim, please" if he heard another old green-ass man call him Timothy, he would vomit

Bruce laughed "Just Bruce, then, Tim" the man turned to look at his children "You may know my children"

"How couldn't I?" He replied simply, perfectly hiding his panic because. Had he just successfully lied to Batman? "What can I get started for y'all?" He repeated. Ready to start punching out the orders

The first to order was Steph, attempting to correct Tim into calling her Steph instead of Ms. Brown or Stephanie and giving up when Tim called her Stephanie for the fourth time. An RMT, a Jelly Dent and a Harvey's Half, stopping to make fun of the names or make a comment

Next up was the youngest of the Waynes, Damian, and Tim couldn't look into the kid's green eyes and avoid his devil-may-care stare (Because hell, those are Ra's's eyes). Other than that, the kid kept looking at him with a frown and sorting things by their ingredients, refusing to say the name of the dish. A ChocoBane Shake, a ScatteredCrow, and an Anti-Meat

Next up was a girl, about the same height and haircut as Tim, who had been staring at him the whole time, as if she knew something Tim didn't and it made him nervous. The girl started waving her hands and Steph offered to act as interpreter. Tim shook his head and started signing in sign language. The girl smiled sweetly and ordered. A Gotham Fog, a Black Cookie, and laughed as she signed "Shiva's Hair" (Tim remembered that he had to change that name as soon as possible)

Duke, the new Wayne, smiled kindly and stayed a second looking at the menu, asking about some and just playing it safe. A ChocoFreeze, a Bat-nana Split and a Gotham's Club Sandwich

And then came the hard part

Dick walked over with a huge grin, laughing at something Steph had said, and looked at Tim a second longer than necessary, something in his gaze. Tim couldn't help but clench his jaw and add a Chai-dentity Crisis. Dick joked about the Sin-amon Roll and Last Bite of Krypton, and tried to get Tim to call him Dick, but Tim smiled and shook his head, writing Richard down on the list

Bruce came back over, leaning on the bar like Steph had before, only keeping a distance from Tim. He ordered the simplest dishes on the menu or those that were already made at the counter. A Villain Vanilla Shake, a Crime Brûlée, and some Eggs-tra Vigilante, commenting on the creative names they had

And then Tim inhaled deeply as the last guy approached the bar. His hands hesitated in place, almost wanting to touch his face

Jason Todd

Robin

His Robin

The one who marked a before and after in Tim's life. The one who died and returned from the dead

His heart began to pound in his ears. This was Jason Todd, and he was everything Tim would never be again

"Ahh, I want both, Bane's Protein Shake and Bane's Big Bite" he ordered, looking at the menu with interest, before smirking and glancing sideways at his family. "Add Joker's Cake to that too" He turned to look at Tim

They both looked at each other for a moment, just for an instant. Tim's hands shook in place, this had to be a joke, a raw laugh came from his throat, almost silent. He shook his head and returned to the world, to the one that continued to spin and had Jason Todd in it

"Sure, it's just that it will take a little longer, I hope it's not a bother" he explained, typing the last few cymbals and avoiding the Waynes' gaze

"Nah, take your time, Timmers" waved his hand in the air

"Sure... And, it'll be... $100.65" He looked at the family and looked at the money on the counter. Woah, they were serious about physical contact

"Keep the change" Dick smiled and made a gesture of disinterest

"Ah, sure, you can take a seat, next to the window, is a table for 5, but you can ask the next table if you can borrow the two chairs they ain't using" He turned around after putting the money away and put on some black latex gloves

And he began to prepare the drinks when they left. In fact, the familiarity of the matter made him forget that he was doing this for the most important family in Gotham

He took the drinks to the open bar, where the orders were taken, and started with the breakfasts, taking some from the counter and cooking others

He dissociated at some point in the preparation because this was relaxing, and muscle memory made him glide through the place gracefully, like when he practiced the tastings Shiva once taught him

The first one came out

"Stephanie! Order ready!" he exclaimed, and without waiting long he continued with the other one "Damian, order ready! Cassandra, order ready!" he turned around to get something else, to avoid Damian's gaze, to not face what they meant and he kept moving "Thomas, order ready!" And he finished with all the dishes. There were no more customers to serve as a front, there was nothing to clean or prepare, and his voice got caught in his throat

He inhale a few times, before swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Richard, order ready!" He tried to pretend he was finishing up something at Joker Cake and nodded at the boy's thanks. "Bruce, order ready!" His voice cracked on the last part, and Tim cursed under his breath, attributing it to a scratchy, loose throat

And his hands hovered over the cake, almost, almost as if he didn't know what to do now, he pressed them to his eyes and inhaled. Turning around and taking out a handful of cookies in plastic packages, placing them on a smaller tray

"Jason, order ready!" He placed the tray next to the larger tray with all the food

The older, bigger, more alive boy came over laughing at something and took the tray and looked at the other one with confusion

"They are free, the house pays" he avoided the blue-green gaze, and fiddled with the pocket of his apron

"Thanks"

Tim just nodded

"Sure" his voice broke again

Just a little more

///

Part 8 is too short tho, but better than nothing

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 30th

Day 30: Weight Gain // Object Insertion // Sex Pollen

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Post apocalyptic setting, mentions of infection, begging to die, fuck or die, sex pollen, mentions of murder, rough sex, premature ejaculation, unprotected sex

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

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

His hands shake, trembling so hard that he can barely hold onto the door knob. Growling out your name as he tries to twist it and turn it with no luck. His entire body is on fire and the press of his cock against his jeans is so hard he feels like he’s about to burst his zipper. Shouting your name again and then beating on the door desperately. “Open the door!”

Your eyes are wide, rushing to the door to fling it open and he crashes through it. “I- fuck, you have to kill me.” He had only come to tell you goodbye. Promising you that he would never just disappear, even though it was hard to promise with the way the world was. Still, he had wanted to reassure you just once you weren’t going to be left alone again. 

“What?” Your hands tighten on his jacket, holding him steady while he resists the urge to just drag you down to the floor and rip your clothes off. His vision blurs, sweat beading on his forehead despite the fact that it’s cold. His body temperature has skyrocketed in the past two hours since he had been infected. “Joel, what is-” 

“I’m infected.” 

You jerking away from him makes his heart ache. Remembering how he had done the same to Tess so many years ago. Regret pooling in his stomach as he wishes he could change the past. There would be so many things he would have done differently, said to those that mattered. Now nothing matters except protecting you and all of Jackson from himself. “No.” 

Joel nods, “I- I ran into a - a clicker.” Dread settles into your stomach and you flinch when he moves his hand, but he just sinks his fingers into his hair and tugs on it. “I- I need you to do it.” He pants, his eyes pleading and there’s unspoken apologies swimming in their depths. 

“Where?” You demand, shaking your head in denial. Joel frowns and you repeat yourself. “Where?” You want to know where he was bit, if there's a chance you can amputate his limb. If there’s a chance to save him. 

“Seven miles-”

“Where were you bit?” You snap impatiently, swallowing harshly and wanting to pull his clothes off his body and search for the wound yourself. 

“I wasn’t.” His answer makes you freeze, frowning at him. “It- it kissed me.” 

You’ve never heard of a clicker kissing someone. Frowning, you stare into his eyes, searching for the spider webbing of red veins that seems to change the pupils before a person is completely taken over by the cordyceps. “Kissed you?” 

He nods, knowing it sounds insane, but that’s not the point. His cock twitches, leaking into his boxers and he moans softly, closing his eyes and swaying where he stands. “I - you have to do it, baby.” He insists, knowing that providing you closer is the best he can offer you right now. “I- I don’t know what is happening to me.” 

“Strip down.” You tell him, frowning in confusion. He’s not acting like anyone you've ever seen infected. 

“Baby-”

“Strip down.” You order, your tone harder and he stares at you for a minute before he nods. Hands shaking as he peels off his jacket and starts to unbutton his shirt. It might be better this way. Easier for him to take off his clothes than for you to do it after he’s gone. No chance of blood getting on them. They could be boiled and given to someone else. 

He is shaking. You can see it. Joel’s hands haven’t shook in a long time. Not since he’s accepted that Ellie isn’t talking to him. To find peace in what he had done to protect her. You know all about it, having come into his life after the rift had been created and over time, you had become a kind of bridge between the two of them. Ellie would sometimes ask about him, and Joel would give you something to pass to her. Now he can barely unbutton his shirt and you seem him grit his teeth as he hisses out a sound of pure pain. 

Fumbling with his belt and buttons on his jeans when he finally gets his shirt off. Groaning your name, his hand slides down to cup his cock through the material, making your eyes widen in surprise. It’s not like Joel has never touched himself in front of you, but you couldn’t imagine that he’s horny now. 

Except that he is. His cock is hard, springing out of his pants and nearly purple with need. Dribbling precum down the side of his length, and it twitches every few seconds like it is begging for attention. It bounces heavily as Joel kicks off the jeans and he shudders when he sees you staring at his cock. “Fuck baby…..” He groans, hands in fists at his side. “I don’t- I haven’t- I don’t know what the fuck is happening.” 

You don’t know what is going on either, but you don’t think that he’s infected. Not like normal cordyceps. He’s not showing any other signs of the fungus taking over, unless you count the shaking and you don’t think that is what is happening here. 

“Describe it to me.” He whines when you say that. Joel Miller whines. That is a sound you haven’t heard ever, not even when he was impatient to slide inside you. 

“I need-” He pants, eyes slipping closed and he takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I need-” He swallows. “I need you.” He finally manages. “I need to fuck you. To cum inside you. To fuck you until you can’t walk and my back gives out and then I want you to ride me.” 

You listen to his tone, the desperation, his cock twitching every other word that falls from his lips. Four fat drops of cum have fallen from the weeping tip of his cock and hit the floor while he describes what he needs. 

“Why?” You are getting wet just thinking about it, but you don’t know what the fuck to do. Why is he acting this way? 

“I’m on fire.” He hisses. “Burning from the inside. I feel-” He shudders again. “I feel like I’m about to come unglued. Like my cock is going to explode if I don’t sink into your cunt. Bury myself deep and -” He groans, uncurling his fist and sliding it against his thigh, inching closer to his needy cock. “Fuuuuuuck.” 

His eyes open and they are black with desire. None of the cordyceps yellow in his iris, nothing showing but hunger. Fixed on you and he takes a step towards you, almost ready to break before he holds himself back. “Baby, I need you to do something.” He growls. “I can’t- I don’t know how much longer I can last. Put me out of my fuckin’ misery.” 

You have a decision. Something you have to roll the dice on. Do you fuck him or kill him? You can’t choose wrong and you don’t want to kill him. Even if your mind is revolting and screaming that you are in danger, this is Joel. You know that he would kill for you, but he would never kill you. 

So you strip. His eyes have closed again, panting breaths covering the sound of your clothes hitting the floor and when you step forward to touch him, Joel nearly jumps. Eyes springing open and you can see that he thinks you are about to kill him for a split second before he realizes that you are naked. 

His nostrils flare and before you know it, Joel is spinning you around and pressing you against the kitchen table, his mouth fusing with yours before you can even squeak. 

There’s nothing breathed into you. No fungus crawling out of his mouth, no infection. Just the heavy flick of his tongue against yours while his hands grab your hips and push you up onto the table to spread your thighs and crowd in between them. 

He’s rough, much rougher than he’s ever been with you before but it's the need that is driving him. A desperation to fuck you that has him pressing against you and pushing inside your body before you are ready. 

The pinch of his cock makes you gasp but his own groan overpowers the sound. Absorbing it as he pushes in to the hilt and panting your name into your mouth. Only to immediately start fucking you like he is running a race that has to be finished. 

Joel quickly takes over all of your senses, making you forget everything but the way he is punching deep into your cunt with heavy, hard thrusts. Feeling like he is in your stomach and you hear him whimper in pleasure every time he pushes deep. 

He gets a dozen thrusts in before his hips stutter, a strangled groan coming from the back of his throat and you feel the heat flooding your womb. He’s cum. A lot. You feel it start to drip out of your cunt even as he continues to rock his hips. 

Breathless, he presses closer to you and for a moment you think that he will collapse against you. Only to start to push his hips back again to start moving again. The thrusts are shallow and squelching as he pushes the newly deposited cum out of your pussy. Still achingly hard and ready for round two. 

“Joel-” He’s never gone two rounds. He needs hours before he can even think about getting hard again. One of those complaints of old age that bothers him more than you. But right now he is still desperate to move inside you. To fuck you. 

“I can’t - I need more.” He growls, pressing his lips to yours and wrapping his arms around you to drag you closer to the edge, needing to be deeper inside you. Something happened out there in those woods. Something changed inside of him. There’s this need for you that is burning in his blood and he doesn’t know how long it will take for him to get it out of his system. Or if he can. 

[notjustjavierpena]

Yes

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Long awaited…

Summary: Proposal proposal proposal!!!!!!

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: mature rating, fluff, husband!javier, domestic life, drunk hubby, proposals, kisses and love confessions, javier is WHIPPED for reader

Word count: 1.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53458216

Yes

The bedsprings creak underneath Javier as he clumsily crawls onto your shared bed in the middle of the night, making him furrow his brow and start shushing them as if they can hear him. He is drunk, reasonably so, and a year older today. He is also recently back home from a night out with Steve that turned into a little (a lot) more than just a few beers.

He remembers texting you and you telling him to go have fun instead of feeling guilty about leaving you at home, but seeing your sleeping frame next to him is still the highlight of his whole birthday.

It is rare that he falls asleep after you, so now that he has the chance, he admires everything you are in this sleeping state; your mouth is slightly open, breathing quietly, and your eyes flicker behind your eyelids as you dream of something that he hopes involves him.

He loves you. He loves your soft lips, the curve of your nose, the color of your skin, and your hair. He has never found anything more sexy than your breasts and your hips, your perfect legs, and the harbor of your arms which brings him peace when he feels worn out. He blinks in disbelief at the fact that he gets to come home to you each day.

He wants to touch you to get some of all the tingling adoration out of his system but he doesn’t want to wake you. So instead, he flops onto his back and the bed shakes enough to make you stir. He swears under his breath, “Mierda.”

“Javi?” You call out in the next moment, voice thick with sleep, and he wants to tell himself off for disturbing your slumber.

“Fuck, sorry, baby,” he says and means it, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You’re all dressed,” you point out, sniffing the air and grimacing, “And drunk.”

Despite your comment, Javier still crawls closer to you to kiss your cheek repeatedly. You start giggling at the tickling of his mustache and, when he tries to wrap around you like an octopus, squirming in his arms when they squeeze you, “You stink!”

“Just saying hi to my girlfriend,” he tuts.

“Well, hi,” you continue laughing, and Javier’s head swims. He continues attacking you with kisses, allowing himself to be silly.

Something takes hold of him right at that moment. He blurts it out on a whim, “Marry me.”

He knows that the proper thing - and the thing that you deserve - is to book a table at a nice place, order a nice bottle, and then take a nice stroll in the moonlight but you have just laughed (because of him!) to the point where tears have formed in the corners of your eyes and you’ve accidentally snorted, reaching up to cover your mouth and nose afterward in embarrassment. He doesn’t think that he can love you more than the way he does at this moment, so the words fly right out of his mouth and send his pulse through the roof when his mind catches onto the fact that he actually means it.

“Marry me,” he repeats in the middle of your giggles.

“What?” You ask, genuinely unaware of what he has been saying.

Javier pauses for a split second. He takes the sight of you in, not that he is contemplating if he has made the right choice because he is so sure. You are in black underwear and a loose tank top, breath minty fresh from brushing your teeth, and so beautiful in the dim glow of the bedroom. So beautiful that Javier falls in love with you a little more, “I just want you to marry me. Fuck, I want you to be my wife. I want this forever.”

It is a brilliant (or maybe tipsy) idea. He nearly falls off the bed as he moves to reach into his bedside drawer, aware of the way you are gaping at him as he has his back towards you. He fumbles for his mother’s ring which he has stashed in the bedside drawer for who-knows-how-long. As he turns back, you burst into laughter, half incredulous and half charmed by the absurdity of it all.

“Yes,” you say with the widest grin.

Javier’s eyes go wide. He suddenly feels very sober, looking down at you from where he is lying on his side, “Wait, what? You will?”

“Of course I will!” You exclaim happily, eyes flicking down to the gorgeous ring that Javier is clumsily pinching between two fingers. It looks old, its gold band’s appearance hinting that it is something with romantic nostalgia and has been worn by someone else for years. You don’t have to ask; it used to belong to the previous - or should you say original? - Mrs. Peña.

You hold out your hand. Javier eases the ring onto your finger which somehow is a perfect fit. The fact that you get to wear it now is enough to make your chest tighten with pride and anxiety due to the responsibility.

“It’s beautiful, Javi,” you sniffle, and then you throw your arms around him, pulling your body up against his chest until he automatically embraces you. His hands slip underneath your tank top, up your back, as you hug, and your hands settle on the back of his head and neck.

His grip tightens but not out of possession. Instead, it is for all the things that he wants to say but does not have the words to do so. He feels your soft hair against his cheek, closes his eyes, and gives in to your warmth. How did he ever become so lucky? You are his future, something he knows as home, someone with the face of his future children.

You stay like that for a while, and then as you start to pull away, you kiss him so hard that it’s a little ridiculous instead of romantic. The romance of it is in how you choose to ignore the taste of alcohol on his breath. Javier feels as though all air has been knocked out of him until you finally let him breathe again.

“I love you,” you smile as you say it, “Fiancé.”

“I love you too, baby,” he replies, realizing he has yet to kick off his shoes. He turns onto his back again and starts with the left.

“And happy birthday,” you continue and out of the corner of his eye, he can see you admiring the ring before laying your hand on the pillow so you can stare at it as you fall asleep again.

“Best present I’ve ever received,” he mumbles, suddenly tired from the alcohol and the emotion. He falls asleep next to you, fully clothed and still wearing a shoe on his right foot.

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If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[itsdirttime]

Not to out myself too much here, but I think a large part of the reason that I like Garak's characterization so much in a Stitch In Time is because of the clear impact his most primary upbringing has on his behavior well into adulthood. So many of the seeds which the Obsidian Order take advantage of were planted within those early memories! There are a few sections within the second letter/entry of the novel that I have re-read over so many times because they have such a striking resemblance to the emotional landscape that I was raised in. I am sure that I could better articulate these thoughts later (and I might), but I wanted to get them out of my head.

First, I often see people discuss Garak in ways that place Tain's impact on him within a vacuum, but I think Tolan plays a large role too. They both encouraged a sense of hyper-vigilance which underlines so much of Garak's character. With Tolan, we see this idea start with the expectation that nothing should ever have to be repeated less Garak face punishment. Tain takes this principle to several higher degrees. Garak could not just never miss instructions. He could never miss any details that those around him might want.

Tain talks in the series about the fact that what makes Garak special is that he never actually had to ask him to do anything, but why should he have to ask? Garak was trained to constantly anticipate what he might want, and it was successful because there was a pattern. If Garak dedicated himself fully enough to the pursuit of anticipating the wants before they were ever expressed, he could avoid the punishment. This hypervigilance is a trait that is reenforced through both punishments and praise.

Elim Garak 🤝 Me: Both having relationships with our fathers which center around the anticipation of demands and punishment yet still desperately clinging to the idea that with enough effort or work you might be able to earn approval and end the constant cycle

The passages I am referencing most specifically within that letter:

"Father was much older than Mother, and he never said much, but what he did say was always clear and to the point. Anyone who worked for him understood that if he had to repeat himself you would very quickly be demoted to maintaining the city’s sewers."

"He was particular about who cooked and cleaned for him, and depended upon Mother for all his personal needs. I was never sure what it was he did; I just assumed he was important enough to afford a house and a servant."

"But Tain at home was anything but mysterious. It was not unusual for Uncle Enabran to appear and take me away on some excursion that involved a long walk through a section of the city. During these walks he’d test my awareness, and challenge me to describe a house or a person we’d just passed. If I hadn’t been paying attention and couldn’t remember the details, the walk was over and we’d silently return home under the oppressive weight of his disapproval. He also seemed to know how I was performing at school, and if he wasn’t satisfied with my progress or behavior he’d punish me. I was a hard worker but I had a mischievous streak, and I enjoyed getting others involved in questionable activities and arranging it so they were found out and took the blame. On those rare occasions when I was caught, Tain would somehow find out and punish me—not for my misdeed, but for having been caught. And after he discovered my fear of small, dark spaces, his favorite punishment became keeping me in one until I had convinced him that I had analyzed and fully understood how my mischievous scheme had gone wrong. I found it odd that Mother and Father never had anything to say about these punishments."

[auspicioustidings]

I bet Gaz takes Ghost to get his first piercing.

Like Ghost grew up working class as fuck and getting a piercing as a teenager would have been a good way to get beaten up for being a fag so even though he always sort of wanted one it never happened.

Gaz meanwhile got his first piercing at a house party when he was 14. He's got a belly button piercing that nobody knew about until Soap caught a glimpse of it when Gaz stretched and it proceeded to nearly make Soap pass the fuck out from sudden and severe dehydration. And he sees the way Ghost looks at his piercings, he has fully clocked that this is a man who would never get a piercing even if he wants one from some sort of hangup.

So when Gaz wants to go get his next piercing he asks if Ghost will come. Asks if Ghost will get one first because Gaz is a little baby when it comes to this. And even if both of them know he's not and that this is his way of letting Ghost get a piercing, they do it anyway.

(And if we want the NSFW bit it is below)

Of course he's expecting this man to get something simple only for him to get a full view of Simon Riley whipping his cock out. Once it's all confirmed for placement they go to the bathroom first and Gaz gets hit with "won't be able to use it proper when it's healing, so if you wanted dicked down now's the time for it". And he just drops to his knees without thinking because holy shit yes. "Need t'be quick about it Gaz, stretch yourself open will you?". He's deep throating Ghost sloppy and fingering himself open and before he knows it he's being absolutely railed on the counter.

Doesn't remember getting the piercing much given the absolute skewering he got. Does remember watching Ghost get his. Proceeds to get tortured with the fact he now cannot get a repeat for the whole healing time. He gets so desperate and agitated that eventually Ghost drags Soap by the mohawk right into Gaz's lap and gives them detailed orders on what to do.

[itsonlyjoseph]

Port Valley | Bucky Barnes x reader - Chapter 4

Synopsis: Nat forces Bucky to confront his growing feelings…

Warnings: sexual references

Word count: 2.7k

.

.

.

Bucky couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He felt like his skin was burning and he hated it. He almost kissed Y/N. He wanted to. And worse than that, his mom almost caught them.

Bucky decided that he’d just try to forget it. Try to forget the almost kiss, try to forget his mom’s persistence, try to forget this tingly feeling he hasn’t felt in years… or ever.

His truck was cold when he hoped inside, making him blow air into his cupped hands to try and warm up. It was no use.

He headed down to the lumberyard to get his day started, but he couldn’t concentrate.

Didn’t care when Sam or Steve tried to talk to him. Didn’t care for the filthy looks sent his way by John. His mind was elsewhere. He found himself thinking about you. About your smile or the twinkle in your eyes when the light hit them just right. He thought about the fact that you got along with his mom so easily and the feeling of his hands in yours whilst your knees touched. His mind even went as far as to imagine you standing at the top of the aisle wearing a white dress but quickly shook those thoughts away.

Soon enough, it was lunchtime and Bucky headed back to his truck to wallow by himself. His usual.

“Hey, you.” He turned when he heard the familiar voice of Nat coming from behind him.

“Hey.” He grunted out, voice gruff.

“Treat me to lunch?”

“Sure.” He nodded his head towards his truck.

Bucky drove them over to the diner, ordered a couple of burgers and sat in silence whilst they ate.

“You socked John pretty good.” Nat started.

“He deserved it.”

“I agree.” Nat said. “Scared Y/N though.”

This made Bucky stop eating, his gaze ever so slightly lifting to Nat. Was Y/N… scared of me? He thought

“Scared her how?” He found himself asking.

“Well, she didn’t really say anything but I’m not an idiot. I’m bartender, I see right through people and she might deny it, but it was pretty clear what she was feeling during that moment.”

“Which was?” Bucky raised his eyebrows.

“Thankful that it was you that came and helped her, and not anyone else.”

“So?”

“So?” Nat repeated as if it was obvious.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“God, you men are stupid! It means she likes you, you idiot!”

Bucky’s stomach tingled.

“She doesn’t… like me.” He denied, but his face burned.

Nat looked over Bucky’s flushed face and took note of his refusal to meet her eyes. Normally, he’d just grumbled out a bitter self deprecating denial and get back to his food.

“Did something… happen after the bar?”

James just slowly shook his head, still not meeting her eye.

“What happened?” Nat pressed.

Bucky took his time to finish chewing his food slowing and shallowing before he continued.

“We almost… kissed… this morning.”

Nate’s eyes bugged out of her head in surprise and excitement.

“Really? Why almost?”

“Ma walked in.”

Bucky’s ears were burning. He hated talking about his. He hated feeling like this.

“Did she almost kiss you or you almost kiss her?”

“Uh, bit of both… I guess, I don’t know.”

“Do you like her?”

“No.”

“Bucky.”

“I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

James just signed. He’d been defeated.

“I… don’t know what I feel.”

“It’s pretty obvious what you feel. You defended her against John and then almost kissed her. You like her, Bucky.”

Bucky’s eyes dropped, not longer able to meet her gaze.

“I can’t.” He mumbled, staring at his hands in his lap.

“Why not.”

“Once she gets to know me, especially now, she’ll go running.” Bucky said, referring back to his time in Afghanistan.

“James, if she likes you, no she won’t.”

“And how would you know?”

“Because I’m also a woman and I know how we think. Especially about men we like.”

Bucky didn’t say anything after that, so Nat spoke up again.

“You’re a good man, Buck. Even now. She’ll see that.”

“I don’t remember the last time I… liked… someone.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

****

The day was nearing to an end and you had surprising not really thought about your almost kiss with James. And even more surprising, Winnie didn’t mention it either. She just buzzed around the store with a subtle smile on her face.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket with a text. You pulled it out to see who it was from and we’re surprised to see it was from Nat.

Wanna have a sleepover with me and Wanda tonight?

The text message made you smile. You hadn’t had a sleepover since you were in high school but it sounded great right now. You hadn’t a lot to get off your chest and a girls night would probably do some good.

Sure :)

****

You were sat in Nat’s little two bedroom house with her and Wanda. The three of you had made a a giant soft oasis out of pillows and blankets. You had snacks and a pitcher of mimosa as well as a backup bottle of wine.

“God, and the sex wasn’t even good!” Wanda finished telling her story, laughing.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you slept with him!” Nat laughed.

“Eh, it was an experience.” She said, taking a gulp of her mimosa. “Besides I’ve got my eyes set on someone else.”

“Who?” You wondered.

“Steve.” She smirked.

“What, like to date or just to sleep with?” You asked.

“Just sleep with, I ain’t interested in all that.”

“Why not?”

“Eh, guys are a head ache and there are only so many Bucky’s to go around.”

Your interest piqued when she said that.

“What do you mean?”

“Bucky’s like the only decent guy in Port Valley. Just a shame he’s never shown interest in anyone here.”

“Oh, right.” You mumbled, taking a sip of your drink.

Nat’s smirk became deeper as she thought about Bucky and you and the potential you both had.

“He’s not gay or anything. Just a loner. Apparently, once Maggie West accidentally walked in on him in the men’s locker room at the lumberyard, thought everyone was gone or something, and he was totally naked.” Wanda giggled, one too many drinks under belt.

You chuckled, taking a sip of your drink but nearly choked at her next outburst.

“She said he had a massive penis too!”

“Oh my god!” You laughed, embarrassed as you covered your face with your hands.

You all laughed with each other at the absurdity of the direction of the conversation. You must admit, you felt like a teenager again, laughing about boys at the sleepover. You didn’t mind the feeling though.

Nat decided not to say anything to you or Wanda about the almost kiss. She decided to let this unfold naturally.

“What do you think about him?” Wanda asked after she’d finished laughing.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on, it’s pretty obvious that you’re into him.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” You mumbled out awkwardly.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him.” Wanda smirked.

“Well, he’s very handsome.” You shrugged.

“Yeah! He’s so sexy, are you kidding?” She bursted out. “All rugged and manly.” She added jokingly. “Strong, too.”

You just chuckled.

“But honestly, it’s obvious.”

“Well, I guess I was… pleased… that he came to my rescue. It kind of made me feel some type of way.”

“As would any sane woman.” Nat added.

“I… don’t know what I feel.” You shrugged again.

****

The next morning, after your little sleepover, you had decided do make a pact with yourself.

Whatever happened, happened.

You wouldn’t encourage it or deny it. Just let it happen. You knew you liked James and you had a feeling that maybe he liked you too considering you almost kissed.

Even though you swore off men and love forever, you slowly found yourself not caring about the past anymore. Yes, it still hurt but you were ready to move on.

Truthfully, you had expected James to talk to you about your almost kiss but he never did. Every time you saw him he looked as emotionless and stoic as ever. It confused the hell out of you.

Yes, he was shy and standoffish but you were losing hope that he actually liked you.

You saw him at the diner a few times and he just put his head down. You saw him at the book store every once in a while but he only spoke to his mother.

Maybe you read it wrong.

****

After his conversation with Nat, Bucky was conflicted. Conflicted because he realised that he liked you but was scared. Scared to get close to someone. Scared to be rejected after learning about his baggage. Scared you’d get sick of Port Valley and go back to New York. Scared of everything that could go wrong.

Every time he saw you around town, he put his head down and turned the other way. He knew you noticed but figured it was for the best. He’d grow out of this childish crush and go back to his lonely, boring life.

He had just walked through the threshold of his front door after another long shift as his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out to see Nat calling.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Hello, sunshine.” She responded sarcastically. “Don’t sound so happy to talk to me.”

“What do you want?” He grumbled.

“Why are you denying yourself life’s simple pleasures?”

“Huh?” He was confused.

“You finally admitted that you like this woman, and now you’re hiding from her!”

“No I’m not.”

“Really? Seems like you are. You forget I caught you quite literally hiding behind a shelf at the grocery store.”

“Yeah, whatever. What’s your point?” Bucky muttered.

“I care about you Bucky. And that means I want you to be happy. I’ll bet this isn’t fun, liking someone and not doing anything about it.”

He didn’t respond so Nat spoke again.

“Just take a chance, James.”

The line went dead, leaving him alone once again.

Maybe she was right.

****

It was almost an extra week and a half until the next time you spoke to him. Nat had asked you to go on a walk with her to pass the time and you’d agreed. The snow was barely an inch thick and the sun was shining.

“What the hell are we doing here?” You exclaimed, eyes wide when the lumberyard came into view.

“I just have to talk to Steve about something. Shouldn’t take too long.” She smiled. But the smile was the same smile Winnie always held.

Nat went off, leaving you along by the administration office as you waited.

“Y/N?” You heard James voice, making you look up.

He looked good. Very good. He had on the signature red shirt you started to like so much with the sleeves rolled at the elbows. He was huffing and puffing as if he’d just ran a marathon so you figured he’d been working hard when he saw you.

“Hi.” You mumbled.

“What are you doing here?”

“Nat said that she had to talk to Steve.”

“She’s sitting in the lunch room on her phone.”

Damn. She got you. You had a feeling that this was a ploy but decided to trust her anyway. Suddenly, embarrassment filled your chest.

“Oh…” You said, beginning to turn away.

Bucky’s spine tingled as he watched you turn away. It was now or never.

“Wait.” He rushed out, making you turn back to him.

“Yeah?” You responded, a hopeful tone.

“Do you maybe wanna… uh, get… coffee… with me?” He asked, not daring to look at you. He was incredibly shy and you found it very endearing.

“Okay.”

“Really?” His eyes shot up.

You nodded, smiling softly at him.

“Uh, okay. I’ll text you.” He rushed, turning and stomping back to his work with saying goodbye. You could see the tips of his ears burning red as he left.

As she she’d timed it perfectly, Nat came around the corner with a smile on her face.

“All done! Let’s go!”

****

James texted you that night asking if you wanted to get coffee two days from now.

You responded yes.

When the day finally came, both Nat and Wanda were stood behind you in the mirror suggest makeup options, hairstyles and outfits.

“No, no! I think she should wear the black top! It shows off her boobs!” Wanda suggested.

“What if Bucky’s an ass man?!” Nat exclaimed.

“Guys, it’s just coffee.” You interjected.

“It’s never just coffee, Y/N.” Wanda sassed.

“With Bucky, it might be.” Nat shrugged.

“How about I just wear this and this?” You said, holding up a tight sweater, the one you worn on your first day the book store, and a pair of jeans.

Wanda put up her hands in surrender and moved to start the makeup.

By the end, you were pleased. You looked nice but not like you were trying too hard. You hoped Bucky was easily impressed.

****

You walked into the diner to see Bucky already sitting in a booth, nervously fidgeting with his hands as he waited. He was wearing a slightly nicer button down shirt than you’d ever seen and he had no hat on.

Did he put effort into his appearance for you?

You slowly walked towards him with a smile on your face.

“Hi.”

His eyes shot up at the sound of your voice. He stood just as quickly, his knee banging into the table on the way up.

“Uh, hey.” He greeted, awkwardly.

You both sat down as a waitress came up to the table.

You’d been sitting and making light conversation for about five minutes when you decided that enough was enough.

“Were you really gonna’ kiss me at your mom’s shop?” You said abruptly.

James’ eyes widened and his knee hit the bottom of the table, making you smile shyly at him.

“Uh, sorry about that, I don’t-“

“I wanted you to.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did. You practically saved me from John.”

Bucky didn’t really know what to say to that.

“I wasn’t just gonna watch.”

“You’re a great guy, James.” You smiled sweetly at him, making him look away embarrassed.

As the date wore on, you found yourself and James sitting closer and closer together until you were both side by side on the same side of the booth. His thick thigh was pressed into your smaller one, warming it greatly. He was so much larger than you. It made you feel giddy.

“And New York just happened to be perfect.” You had been recounting a story about your job after college. “I had so many connections and found this great company to start with. It was amazing.”

Bucky was listening intently but found himself getting slightly insecure at the way you spoke about New York. Would you go back? Would you leave and he’d never see you again?

“What about you? Always wanted to work as a lumberjack?” You asked him.

“Uh, not really. I was in the military for a while but got kicked out. Needed something to do so Steve got me a job at the lumberyard.” He found himself wanting to open up to you. To tell you things that he wouldn’t even tell Steve or Sam.

“Why’d you get kicked out?”

“I was injured. Pretty badly. Almost lost my arm.” He said, self hatred seeping into his tone.

“Oh, James.” You started, reaching for his hand. “You should be kinder to yourself.”

James gulped at the way you looked at him. It wasn’t pity and not really sympathy. More like… admiration.

After that, James was a little more open. He talked about his high school days, about his hobbies (unsurprisingly, woodwork), what he did in his free time. He was still very timid, very reserved. But that was just him. It’s one of the things you found so endearing.

Soon, the sun was getting ready to set. Winter made the days much shorter.

Bucky paid, even after you tried to make him let you pay, and the two of you stepped out of the diner.

The date was over but you felt light in your chest. You hadn’t really ever felt like this before. You hoped this feeling would last, and you hadn’t sneaky feeling that it would.

[grayskies2525]

Inevitable (male sneezing, contagion) | Part 2/4

And here we continue with Evan facing the consequences of his little elevator ride.

CW: lots of mess

Word Count: 2,900

Part One

***

Part Two

Evan tries soothing the slight soreness he feels in his throat by rubbing his neck. The over baked pizza crust did not go down easily with that last swallow. He’d tried dissuading his roommate, Marcus, from ordering Domino’s for their dinner, but Marcus had been insistent. So, they’d split the little money they had between them to order a simple cheese pizza that, ultimately, turned out to be a major letdown — for Marcus, anyway. Evan figures he can't exactly be “let down” when their expectations were already on the floor. 

Evan takes a desperate drink of his Pepsi in further efforts to ease the discomfort from his throat. The first drink does nothing to alleviate the soreness, so Evan takes another. Then another. He slowly brings up his fingers, again, to lightly trail them across his neck. 

“This pizza tastes like shit,” Marcus comments from his place next to Evan on their living room couch. 

Evan clears his throat. “Yeah, it’s almost like someone advised you to order from somewhere else.” 

“I still stand by the fact that they don’t always burn it. I mean, when it’s good, it’s good, you know?” 

Evan just rolls his eyes then reluctantly takes another bite of his pizza as he tries to focus on Rick and Morty and not on the increasing soreness of his throat. 

At twenty-eight, Evan is certainly not living the kind of life he’d imagined for himself when he’d been younger. He’d hoped to be a prospering author — or even a not prospering one for that matter. He’d imagined marriage — to a nice man or woman — and possibly kids, maybe a house. Yet here he is, eating cheap, crunchy pizza in his run-down apartment that he has to share with a roommate out of necessity. 

After a few minutes repeating the cycle of throat clearing, throat rubbing, and drinking an excessive amount of Pepsi, memories of the elevator incident from two days earlier resurface.

Evan can’t help but hang his head as he realizes what’s happening.

“Do we have any DayQuil?” Evan asks Marcus after clearing his throat, yet again.

“I don’t think so,” Marcus says through his mouthful of pizza. “We may have Tylenol or something. Why? Getting sick?”

“Hopefully not,” Evan says, sighing. Again memories from the man in the elevator flash through his mind. “But, probably, yeah.”

* * *

The next morning, Evan sits at the kitchen table and dabs at his nose with a tissue as he tries to remember what the day even is. His brain is impossibly foggy.

“You know, if you ate something with actual nutrients instead of an overly processed blueberry muffin, you probably wouldn’t be coming down with a cold right now,” Marcus says from his spot at the counter as he drops various fruits into a blender.

Evan sniffles and wipes at his nose again. “I get you’re a personal trainer so you think you know everything about health. And that not getting sick is as easy as taking in some vitamins. But I think even you, Marcus, would be coming down with this thing after getting blasted with sneeze after sneeze from a sick person in an elevator.”

Marcus shudders. “Ew, okay, please don’t bring up that story again. It was unfortunate I had to hear it the first time. Anyway, I’m just saying, you’re not setting yourself up for success with your current lifestyle.”

Evan rolls his eyes. “You ate pizza last night right along with me, Marcus.”

“It’s all about moderation,” Marcus says, shooting Evan a smile, before turning on the blender for his smoothie. 

Evan wipes at his nose. This bug is settling in quickly. Since the moment he woke up that morning, it seems he’s not been able to go a single minute without having a tissue held up to his face. With his head feeling like it’d been stuffed with cotton and his throat screaming in pain, he’d groaned the moment upon waking and had turned over to his side, shoving his face into his pillow as though he could hide from having to face the day. This plan, though already doomed to fail from the beginning, made itself clear as being even more futile when Evan felt liquid pouring from his nose onto the pillow. It had been so much fluid that Evan was convinced it was a nosebleed. But when he’d raised his head to check, he could see that the large, damp spot on his pillow was entirely clear. So he’d sat up and grabbed a tissue from his bedside table and gave a long, gurgling blow. In the hour he’s been awake, he’d estimate he’s blown his nose in a similar way no less than five times.

He hopes this problem eases at least somewhat because he has an eight hour shift ahead of him and, in his experience, there’s not much worse than having to work retail with an incessantly dripping nose. 

* * *

“Yes, ma’am, I understand, but there’s really not much more we can do. I mean, if you had actually bought the curtains from this store, then I’d be happy to return them, but seeing how this isn't one of our products… Well, it’s simply not possible to issue a return,” Evan says, hoping his hoarse, strained voice conveys the mandatory amount of sympathy he’s expected to have for these situations as one of the store’s managers.

The woman says something, but Evan is preoccupied by a sudden radiating tickle deep within his sinuses, so whatever inane chatter she’s likely spouting is lost on him.

“ADT’schhh!”

The first sneeze of his cold. 

He feels wetness coat the back of the hand he barely managed to bring up in time. “In time” may be too generous of a way to phrase it, considering the not insignificant amount of droplets now visible across the POS system’s screen. He frowns at the screen, but quickly recovers, looking up and offering the woman a strained smile. 

“Excuse me, um —”

But the woman huffs out a frustrated breath before turning around and marching out the store. 

Good riddance, Evan thinks as he pulls out a crumpled tissue from his pocket to tend to the ever-present drip. He’s been at work for less than an hour, but his nose has already demanded he use what has to be —  at least — a dozen tissues. He makes sure to thoroughly soak each one, coating every inch of the small white square, before getting a new one. 

With the line of customers slowing down, he leaves the other associates to their work. He begins walking to the break room to get another tissue when he suddenly finds himself jerking his head forward. 

“HH ADT’shuuUHH!”

He frowns. He hadn’t had any chance to even begin the process of trying to cover the sneeze. He feels shame course through him as he realizes he's just launched thousands of droplets from his mouth and nose straight into the air — droplets full of what has to be millions of incredibly contagious germs. He’s usually better at covering sneezes, but this time there had been no warning. He also hadn’t been expecting another sneeze so soon. Even when sick, he doesn’t sneeze all that frequently in a day. If he’d have to estimate, he’d say he sneezed probably 10 or 15 times a day when sick. So, two sneezes within a minute of each other is highly unusual for him.

He shakes his head as if to get rid of the pesky thought and determines to finish his shift without any more incidents.

He makes it to the break room before snapping forward. 

“ADT’shhhuuuuhhh! AH-TSHUUUuuuhhh!”

Evan’s nose had, unfortunately, been full to the brim with mucus before the two sneezes — which means he’s now in what he considers to be an emergency situation. 

He, instinctively, snaps a hand up to his face, clasping it firmly over his nose and mouth as he tries to ignore the wetness that’s now sliding past his lips and onto his chin. He spares a moment to internally thank whatever deity may be out there for the break room being currently empty of any other employees.

He walks briskly to the counter and grabs several tissues with his free hand from the box next to the sink. He winces as he slowly pulls back his hand. One part of his mind is preoccupied with how stringy the mess on his hands is, while the other part is alarmed with the realization that there is a glob of snot on his khakis. 

How is that even possible? 

He reaches out to turn on the sink, but a tickle in his nose has his breaths hitching erratically until he’s once again snapping forward. 

“AHgt’shUUUUUhhhhh!

The sneeze is wet, but in a heavier kind of way. Evan can think of no other way to describe it. It’s thick and bursts out in a cloud that’s visible through the fluorescent lighting. It’s not the kind of fine mist that accompanies the sneezes that come along with his spring allergies. This is like… like germ-laden fireworks. Globs of mucus land on the counter and his shoes. 

Evan, now covering his face with a tissue, reaches quickly for the sink handle as he contemplates how it’s even possible for someone to expel so much from their sinuses in less than a minute. There’s also a fair bit of his mind screaming in alarm at the realization he’d just sneezed all over the dishes in the sink. He quiets that part of himself down, though, because surely those will get washed, anyway, so it’s not like it matters. 

He hears his name being called out over the radio he has clipped onto his pockets — someone’s saying something about “suspicious behavior” in the electronics department.

“Shit,” he mutters. His hands have only been in the water for a few seconds, but he has to get back out on the sales floor right now. He’d washed off the visible mess from his hands, so that’ll have to be good enough. He pulls his hands out from under the water, turns it off and weakly attempts to air dry his hands by shaking them, but ultimately decides they’ll just have to stay damp. He snorts back an egregious amount of mucus and makes his way back out to the floor.

* * *

Evan clocks the “suspicious behavior” instantly. Evan sighs and rubs his temples at the headache he feels coming on.

The guy hovering around the area displaying expensive headphones and smart watches looks to be no older than twenty. He’s wearing a backpack and his eyes are darting around furtively. Evan almost wishes this guy would have been even just a little less obvious because Evan simply feels too tired to deal with this. It’s not like he can even do anything. He can’t accuse him of stealing, or kick him out of the store or do anything at all useful. 

But, still, there’s protocol he’s expected to follow — especially as an associate in a lead position.

“Hi! Is there anything you’re looking for in particular?” Evan asks in the friendliest tone of voice he can currently muster after making his way over to the customer. He holds back a wince at how nasal he’s beginning to sound.

“Uhh, just looking,” the man says, keeping his gaze down at the floor.

Evan holds back a sigh. He is not feeling well enough for this. “Right. Well, I would love to assist you in any way I c-c — hold on — ADT’SHuuuuH! ADT’SHHHH!”

Evan mentally applauds himself at catching the two sneezes into the crook of his elbow. They’re not as productive as before, but they do leave a wet spot on his sleeve. Thankfully, he’d chosen to wear a navy blue button up that morning, so it’s not especially noticeable. It’s still weird as hell that he’s sneezing in twos all of a sudden. He doesn’t recall ever doing that. He doesn’t have much time, though, to ponder on this because he has a situation to deal with.

“Uh, bless you?” the shoplifter says, sounding dubious. 

Evan gives a tight smile. “Thanks. You know, I could tell you about some of our popular — our p — hhh —” 

Oh my god, is he going to sneeze AGAIN?

He quickly rubs his nose with the back of his hand, ignoring the wetness he feels there. “Uhmb —”

When did he start sounding so congested?

He sniffles — or more accurately, snorts before clearing his throat. “Uhmb, I cand tell you a— abo — hh ouut — our mbost popular FitBits if that’s what you’re loogkig for. I’ll oped the case ad you cad take a loogk.” He gives another heavy snort.

The shoplifter is now wearing an expression that looks as though he’s regretting his decision to choose this store to steal from. 

Good, Evan thinks to himself. 

Evan’s expecting — and hoping — the man realizes that it’s useless to keep up the act and go on his merry way somewhere else.

Instead, Evan notices the customer becoming visibly flushed — a splotch of red breaking out over his neck and rising upward. “O-okay, yeah, you can open the case.”

Well, now Evan feels kind of bad for this guy. Clearly, he’s not an expert at shoplifting and he's just so young. He’s probably in a pretty bad spot to be considering it. But, now Evan has to keep up the act too, so he lowers himself down to a crouching position on the floor — the man joining him. The case is small, so the two are practically huddled next to each other, their knees touching.

Evan wipes his nose again with the back of his hand before reaching into his pockets for the case’s keys. Once he opens the case, the man mutters something about wanting to take a look at one of the options, so Evan goes to grab the one he specifies.

He turns his head slightly to look at the customer and intends to prattle on about the product details but instead he — 

“ADSHUUUHHHHH! ADg’shhhHHHHHHHH! AG’SHHHHHHHH!”

Oh my god.

It’s as though his body decided to use every ounce of effort and every drop of mucus inside his body for those three sneezes. 

Three sneezes.

What the hell kind of virus did he manage to catch?

Evan brings his hand to cover his face, though the damage has already been done — to an excessive degree. The poor man's pale face has visible spots of wetness on it. His neck even has a thick string sliding down it.

Evan decides he would, in this moment, like to die. Forget about his plans for becoming a psychologist — forget about his desire to find a partner and to maybe have kids. All that matters now is that he just coated this stranger in three thick and heavy sneezes. 

“I’b so EDT’SshuuuuuhHHHH!” 

It’s another sudden, drenching sneeze that again hits the poor, unfortunate stranger in the face.

“Excudse m’be, uhm… Do you wadt mbe to uhmb… I cad… I cad get somb paper towels or — or heh? EDTShuuuHHH!”

He directs the last sneeze down at his lap, at least, but again has to wonder how much more mucus he has left in him. Evan wipes his nose, leaving a slimy trail along the side of his hand. 

The poor would-be shoplifter genuinely looks like he’s about to cry and Evan has the weird impulse to just give him the FitBit to make up for the mother of all colds he’s surely just passed onto him. Because this guy has to catch it, right? Is there even a miniscule chance he won’t? Evan can literally see droplets from all the spray glistening on the guy’s lips. The sneezes were so thick, Evan swears he can smell them.

“Th-th-that’s okay,” the man says, nervously. “Um, I’ll just go to the bathroom and … clean up. And maybe just order one of these online. But… thanks, though, I guess,” he says, cheeks flushing. “Those sound like bad allergies,” he adds, an almost hopeful tone in his voice.

Evan rubs the back of his neck and tries not to look too directly at the sneeze-soaked man in front of him. “Yeah... definitely really bad, um... allergies.”

The man’s face softens with obvious relief. “Maybe take something for that,” he says before turning around and, presumably, heading off to the bathroom.

Evan should definitely go home. He’s so sick that it’s unreal. He’s not convinced that what just happened actually happened. Because who does that?  What actual real human being sneezes that much and that forcefully? And all over someone else? Surely he’s trapped in a nightmare. 

It’s fine, though, because he’s going home. He’s going home where he can rest and, most importantly, sneeze in his own privacy. 

As soon as he has the thought, he hears another voice over the radio.

“Evan, just wanted to let you know, Courtney’s headed home sick.”

Evan closes his eyes and slowly opens them. Courtney’s the other team lead on the schedule today. It’s protocol they always have at least one of them in the store at all times. 

He can’t leave.

He has a cold that seems to increase in severity with every millisecond, and he can’t leave.

“Evan, we need you at the registers,” says another voice over the radio.

He can already feel another sneeze swelling within his sinuses, ready to erupt at any moment.

Part 3

[aurieeeeeenyx]

time travel mechanics in link click — intentional inconsistencies? closed loops and parallel timelines (theory)

Back in 2021 or so, I wanted to make a post about the time travel mechanics in Season 1, and how they seemed to be inconsistent in certain episodes. I never ended up making that post, and the idea slowly faded from my mind, but I want to make that post now (armed with all the new information we've received since then) before Bridon/Yingdu arc episode 4 comes out because of the episode preview when Lu Guang says this:

In Season 1, the time travel seems to operate on the principle of a closed loop. This is especially evident in the Doudou arc, when Cheng Xiaoshi sees himself in the past (while he's in Doudou's body) and realizes that he was always there; the "changes" he inflicted weren't really changes, because by the time he dives back from the future his actions in the past have already happened. This is also demonstrated when Xu Shanshan walks into the photo studio and interacts with Cheng Xiaoshi in S1E8, and we later find out that it was in fact Cheng Xiaoshi in Xu Shanshan's body interacting with himself. And again, with the ploy to use Xu Shanshan in order to lure Liu Min/Red Eyes to the photo studio. We also see this closed loop phenomenon happen in Season 2, for example when Cheng Xiaoshi possesses Lu Guang's body to go save himself in the past.

So I've always been a little bothered by the earthquake arc in Season 1. If the dives into the past have already happened, why does Chen Xiao come to the photo studio in the first place? If Cheng Xiaoshi (in Chen Xiao's body) won the basketball game and gave those kind words to Chen Xiao's loved ones, why does Chen Xiao remember otherwise?

I've wondered before what happens to the clients when Cheng Xiaoshi is possessing them—do they just not remember anything? Are they even aware of themselves being possessed? Why is no one concerned about missing memories for hours at a time or not being in control of their own body? Emma sort of skirts around this when she tells Cheng Xiaoshi, "So you were the one who sent that message" in S1E11, implying she's aware it wasn't her who sent it. For the sake of argument, though, I'm going to pass the general non-reaction of the clients to being possessed as a handwavey "the brain justifies it somehow later" thing and ignore it.**

That brings us again to the question: Why does Chen Xiao remember the past differently to the one Cheng Xiaoshi experienced/changed? Maybe the past isn't set in stone after all? Maybe, instead of just being a closed loop, the time travel in Link Click is operating on multiple systems?

In 2021, right after I watched Season 1, I was going to dismiss this as just an error. The writers slipped up and bungled their time travel mechanics a bit, and therefore the earthquake arc is different on accident. But we've learned since then that nothing is unintentional in this show, so why is that arc different from the others? (Also, I want to note, there is that moment in S1E4 where Lu Guang's face does that weird warping thing; coincidence? Maybe, but maybe not...)

My theory is: the time travel abilities that Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang have operate differently.

DISCLAIMER: My knowledge of photography and film is extremely limited, so please correct me if I'm wrong.

There's always been a lot of film imagery in this show—obviously, since the whole premise is based in photography—but as early as the Season 1 OP, "Dive Back In Time," we can see the repeated use of rewinding film rolls as a metaphor for going back in time.

Note also: Lu Guang dropping the photo and it transitioning into a film roll, and Cheng Xiaoshi being tangled up in film rolls and being "inside" the film in the background/trapped in the frame. I'll get to this later.

The thing is, once you record something on film, you can't change it; you can only rewind and play it again. This tracks with the closed loop theory: no real changes can be made, because they have already happened. So how is it possible that "changes are still happening," as Lu Guang says in the YE4 preview? It's likely that Vein (and Liu Xiao and Xia Fei) are involved, but I don't believe that's the root of the issue. And, I don't think it's just the ever-nebulous "butterfly effect," because in YE1 Lu Guang says this:

I used to think that even a flap of a butterfly might cause a hurricane strong enough to ruin the world. I was wrong. The power of time is still far beyond our imagination. The future may not change due to a ripple of the past. Not at all...

(Yes, Lu Guang is a notoriously unreliable narrator, but I've decided to trust him on this one. Not to mention, butterfly effect shouldn't exist in a closed loop system.)

I've seen lots of excellent analyses illustrating the discrepancies this season, from the very first scene of YE1 (different furniture positioning, cracks in photo frame glass, bloodstains, presence of curtain, etc) to the changing positions of clothing, buildings, time of day, food, and so on in YE2 (go check out hyperfaexation's excellent YouTube video on their Shattered Memories theory for more details). The fandom is constantly theorizing about how many timelines there are. But while we've been asking ourselves how many timelines exist (five, ten, more?), we forgot to stop and ask: why do they exist?

The existence of multiple timelines doesn't fit into Season 1's time travel premise. In Season 1, it was always Cheng Xiaoshi that we were watching. Whereas Cheng Xiaoshi could be said to live "in" the film when he dives, perhaps Lu Guang is cutting the roll short at the point which he dives back to and splicing a new roll onto it. This could explain the scene from "Dive Back In Time" that I referenced earlier, with Lu Guang outside the film and Cheng Xiaoshi in it. It's not exactly that Lu Guang is diving back in time; it's more like he's diving out of time, into a parallel timeline and leaving this one behind. Maybe this season, we'll get to see more complicated time travel mechanics that result from the intersection of different powers. (And, while we're at it, maybe we can get an answer to why Cheng Xiaoshi has golden eyes for a few frames in YE1 when they're running away, because seriously what's up with that?)

**Another explanation for the non-reaction to the clients' possession could be the interaction of different timelines, but I'm not really sure how this would pan out so I'm not going to elaborate too much.

What does this have to do with the earthquake arc? Why would Lu Guang have a (slightly) different power than Cheng Xiaoshi, if he inherited it from Cheng Xiaoshi as we are led to believe? What happens to the discarded film, the abandoned timelines, when Lu Guang casts them away? Can Cheng Xiaoshi ever be saved? I don't have answers to any of these questions, and maybe I'm overthinking (ha) all of this and it really is just a writing inconsistency after all, but I want to believe Link Click's writers know what they're doing with this and all we can do is wait for the reveal.

[icarusflewsworld]

Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 14 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

Thank you for readings, I love you guys ❤️❤️

Feel free to tell me what you think about the direction the story is taking! Thanks for reading, voting and for your comments. You brighten my day.

! Don't forget to read the previous chapters ! : Here

Enjoy the read !

Chapter 14

Azriel half-opened his heavy eyelids with difficulty. He noticed the room in which he had locked Luxiana yesterday without really seeing her. He repositioned himself a little more comfortably on the wall where he was leaning, his buttocks a little numb from the cold, hard floor he was sitting on. Then, suddenly, he realized. Luxiana! He scrambled to his feet, breathless and heart pounding in his chest. He searched the room frantically for his soul mate.

Then he froze, seeing Luxiana on the bed, in the same place they'd left her yesterday. He could release the air he'd been holding in his lungs, relieved, his shoulders sagging. She was on her back, her face half-covered by her hair, and the drool dripping from the corner of her mouth made Azriel smile gently. Even like this, she was cute. Her arms and legs were at dubious angles, and one of her hands was flat against Cassian's face, which was sleeping as soundly and similarly as Luxiana beside him. 

He grimaced. That bastard. He was so close to Luxiana. Luckily, he hadn't taken advantage of the night to take her in his arms and hug her. Well, maybe that was why she had a hand on his face, because she'd pushed him away. 

Then he looked down and noticed Rhys, on the floor beside Luxiana, lying full length on the ground, completely asleep.

He frowned as he ran his hands through his hair, watching the room a little more for a threat. The sun was fully up, and the warm yellowish rays streaming through the bay window confirmed to him that it was already late. His eyes widened. Had he slept all this time? Had they slept that long? 

He couldn't believe it. He had slept. He usually had great difficulty sleeping. The voices of his shadows, although he was used to them, and whatever else was still bothering him, usually prevented him from doing so, but here, he'd just felt so good. He'd been so reassured to know Luxiana was by their side, and the fact that his shadows had fallen silent, he'd dozed off deeply. 

He glanced at Rhysand. He was sleeping well too. It was crazy. In the last few weeks, thanks to their new bond, he'd felt all the times Rhys hadn't been able to sleep because of his worry about Luxiana, but he'd also felt the nightmares he'd had that distressed him greatly. But now Rhys was sleeping peacefully. Was he as reassured as he was to know Luxiana was by their side?

Azriel winced. They'd been foolhardy to sleep at all. Anything could have happened. Luxiana could have run away again, foolishly endangering her life as she had done so well last night. 

He took a deep breath, then let it out as he dropped onto the wall behind him and slid down to sit up again, but the clanking of his weapons and armor made more noise than expected. Rhysand and Cassian awoke suddenly, straightening up at once, tense and on guard. They looked left and right, ready to fight, but frowned as they remembered where they were. 

"Everything's fine," Azriel said to his two brothers through their telepathic link, not wanting to wake Luxiana, who was still snoring softly. "We just fell asleep."

"Asleep?" repeated Cassian aloud, still confused as he stared at the sunbeams streaming through the bay window.

"Shut up, you'll wake her up," Azriel ordered him, then glanced at Luxiana. Her hand, which had been resting on Cassian's face, had fallen on the mattress when he had straightened up, but she hadn't even felt it. She still hadn't moved. He smiled, at first relieved, but then a worry gripped his gut. She was such a heavy sleeper, it could be so dangerous for her. 

Rhysand cast a puzzled glance at Azriel, who nodded in agreement. “We slept really well," affirmed the shadows singer. "It's past noon."

Rhysand's eyes widened, and he glanced at Luxiana. He'd been so reassured to know she was close to him that he'd fallen asleep. But he hadn't had a single nightmare. He hadn't had one in a long time. He ran his hands over his face to wake himself up, and as he moved he realized he was in his combat gear. So were Cassian and Azriel. They'd slept in those uncomfortable clothes, even with their shoes on. It was crazy. 

After what had happened yesterday, Azriel had rested on the wall on the left side of the room so as to have his eye on Luxiana, the bay window and the front door. Rhysand had then lain on the floor on that side too, jealous of the closeness she had with Cassian in the same bed. And he hadn't even had time to think about what had happened before he'd fallen asleep. Cassian hadn't lasted long either. He'd watched Luxiana sleep, finding her so pretty, before he himself dozed off without even realizing it.

Rhysand turned his head to Luxiana and smiled as he saw her asleep, hair matted, facial muscles relaxed, sprawled like a starfish on the bed and half on top of Cassian. She looked so cute. 

Cassian, still seated, shrugged his shoulders and grinned in acceptance. He'd slept really well and was ready to do it all over again. Especially as the bubble of vanilla perfume surrounding him and emanating from his soul mate calmed him so powerfully that his heart felt as if it had stopped beating. He lay back down and turned towards Luxiana, tucking his wings behind him. He detailed the landscape of tangled hair and drool that offered to him with a smile. He remembered when he'd opened his eyes that night and seen her curled up in a ball under the blanket Azriel had laid over her. She looked cold and he'd wanted to warm her, so he'd reached up to wrap his wings around her body but, without even waking up, she'd pushed him away with a firm hand on his face. And her palm hadn't left Cassian's face all night. 

The army commander's smile widened. She was his soul mate. He could see his brothers in his field of vision, and he noticed that they were staring at her too. In any case, the feeling of peace, tenderness and comfort he felt in his chest wasn't just Cassian's. It was their soul mate. It was their soul mate. "How are we going to do this?" he asked through their bond.

"How are we going to do what?" replied Rhysand, deflecting her eyes towards him just as Azriel did. 

"When she will love us. Will we have to make a schedule so that each of us can take turns spending the night with her? It’s horrible to think that" A ball of stress and apprehension crushed Cassian's stomach, and the same feelings arose in Azriel and Rhysand. "Will she even want this? One of us is already a lot for one woman, so three for the same one, will she want this? Will she put up with all three of us? Will she even be able to unite with three people? Does the ceremony foresee such a possibility? Will she have to marry just one of us? What about sleeping with her? We've never shared the same woman in bed, so how do we ...?"

"That's enough," interrupted Rhys, "calm down. We'll sort it all out in due time. She doesn't like us yet anyway. Let's take it one day at a time and try to get her to like us first, then we'll see. Besides, given her character, I'm sure she'll sort things out on her own." Rhysand said this, but doubt was also eating him up inside. He'd been asking himself all these questions every second since he'd met Luxiana.

Cassian nodded, relaxing as he took a deep breath. Rhysand was right. Their soul mate was no slouch, and she'd probably manage all three of them just fine. She already did. He returned his gaze to Luxiana and smiled. It would worth it to give everything and fight for her, he was convinced. She was his mate, after all. He reached up to brush the hair from her cheeks, stroking the skin of her face with his fingertips. "My bed would be big enough to receive all four of us. Maybe I'd always known we'd share the same soul mate."

Rhysand smiled wryly as he sat cross-legged. "I swear, if we come to sleep in the same bed for her, if either of you get too close to me or to touch me, especially if you're naked, I'll disintegrate you."

Cassian and Azriel burst out laughing, trying to be as quiet as possible despite everything.

Wanting to get closer to her again, Cassian slid in her direction, but the bed was far too small and limited his movements. He wanted to try again to take her in his arms. He grabbed Luxiana by the hips to turn her towards him and bring her close enough to fall asleep again for hours, but his soulmate grunted. 

Azriel rolled his eyes, cursing his brother by their bond. "Cassian, I'm going to break your fingers, let her sleep."

Luxiana, without even opening an eye, pressed both palms and both feet flat against Cassian's abdomen to push him away. And she remained in that position, bent in two and still completely asleep. Cassian couldn't help himself and burst out laughing loudly. 

"Cass," Rhysand scolded to make him stop laughing and not wake up Luxiana, but it was too late.

The blonde sat up suddenly, letting out a cry of frustration. She grabbed the pillow behind her to press it against Cassian's face with both hands, surely hoping to smother the brunet with it. But Cassian laughed even harder. The Illyrian gently pushed back the cushion and Luxiana, not wanting to murder him just yet, decided to pull it away. She struck Cassian's thigh once with it, then returned it to its place behind his back. She ran her hands over her face to wake herself up, then crossed her arms, detailing the three Illyrians and their positions. "This isn't the best way to wake me up, you know," she growled in a broken voice.

Rhysand smiled wryly as he slowly rose to his feet. He looked down at Luxiana from his heigh for a moment as she stared at him intently. He leaned towards her, "what's the best way to wake you up then?"

Luxiana swallowed hard, lost for a second in Rhysand's beautiful violet-blue eyes before squinting, remembering that she was angry with them. But why was she already? "Not to," she replied coldly as she lay back down, curling up into a ball with her back to Rhysand. 

Cassian laughed softly.  "Are you always in such a bad mood in the morning?"

Luxiana muttered through her teeth. "Only when you're the one who wakes me up." 

The three Illyrians grimaced as they glanced at each other. Either she was always in a very bad mood in the morning, or she was still angry with them. Rhysand huffed, resting her buttocks beside her soul mate on the bed.

Luxiana, feeling the mattress in her back sink, closed her eyes a little tighter as she moved back, sliding further until she couldn't, coming into contact with Cassian. She preferred him for the moment. 

Azriel jumped to his feet and approached the bed, ready to move away Cassian and Rhysand, who were oppressing his mate. Azriel understood that she couldn't be enjoying this too much. He understood that when you're a young woman, you can't necessarily be very reassured by the presence of two unknown men so close to you in a bed. But Rhysand spoke. "We'd like to apologize.”

Azriel stopped a few steps away from Rhysand with some surprise. He'd never seen him apologize for anything before. To apologize was to admit his wrongdoing, and Rhys was the high lord; he couldn't afford to do that, it would have denied his authority. And when Cassian had spoken of making amends to their soul mate, Azriel hadn't thought those words would be uttered by Rhysand. But they had been. He smiled. Rhysand had put aside his pride and his role for their soulmate. He was a good man. He was reassured to know that Luxiana would be treated well with her two brothers too. He was happy to know that relations with his brothers would take a whole new turn thanks to Luxiana.

The blonde, completely taken aback by Rhysand's words, jumps to sit straight, startling the three Illyrians. She leaned back against the headboard and crossed her hands over her thighs. She looked at Rhysand with an attentive and serious face. "Why?" she asked slowly, in a drawling voice as she squinted her eyes. 

Rhysand glanced at Cassian and Azriel, and the three of them smiled softly, realizing that their future words could determine the rest of their relationship with their soulmate and her behavior towards them. "For interrupting Feyre's wedding and behaving like cads," continued Rhysand, gazing into his soulmate's electrifying blue eyes. 

Luxiana frowned for a second. Was he sincere? Was the high lord of the night court apologizing to her? For real? "Really?"

"Oh we can promise you we really blame ourselves, yes," Cassian smiled as he straightened up and leaned on the bed in the same way as Luxiana.

Luxiana glanced at him sideways, wary. "Why did you do it then?"

Rhysand took a deep breath, he didn't want to lie to her too much so he inspired from the truth. "Yesterday we learned something very... disturbing and..."

"What have you learned?" she asked, inclining her head and detailing the fae lord with piercing eyes. 

Azriel and Rhysand glanced at each other. Cassian laughed softly. "Someday you'll find out, believe me."

She crossed her arms, puckering up her face and settling a little more herself in the mattress, making the Illyrian smile triple. "And then what?" she sought to know more.

"And so," Rhysand continued, trying to regain a modicum of seriousness.  "As a result, all the decisions that were made yesterday were hasty and made in anger. Like the one where we decided to go and get Feyre to return the favor she'd promised."

"Which is?" she interrupted him again.

Azriel crossed his arms, glancing half-closed at Luxiana. "He could come to it if he wasn't interrupted every two seconds."

Luxiana gave him a dark look, which Azriel returned.

Rhysand placed his hand on the young woman's cheek, then forced her to turn her head towards him and take her eyes off Azriel. He wanted her to see how sincere he was. "We decided this on the spur of the moment, thinking it would be a good idea, and went straight for Feyre. We really didn't think we'd be interrupting her wedding."

Luxiana loved the contact of these three Illyrians far too much. It turned her inside out so much that she couldn't even think straight. When she spoke, her voice was weak, uncertain and a little too high-pitched. "Despite how much you hate Tamlin, you still wouldn't have interrupted his wedding?"

Cassian blew out a laugh. "We would have interrupted him in other circumstances but not here, not knowing he was marrying your best friend and certainly not knowing what she means to you." 

Luxiana's eyes widened as she stared at Cassian before her cheeks flushed violently. "Liar," she said, lowering her head. 

Azriel felt his heart pounding against his ribcage. She was so cute.

"We don't lie, I assure you," Rhysand said, shifting his hand from Luxiana's cheek to her chin to catch her jaw. He raised his soulmate's flushed head to him. 

She looked at Rhysand with doubt. She wanted to believe in his sincerity, but the massacre they'd made at the wedding wasn't erased. "Why do you need Feyre, or me, or anyone?"

Rhysand straightened his back, letting go of Luxiana and putting on a serious face. "Time is running out to neutralize the cauldron and prevent Hybern from destroying the wall. We must save the humans and to do that we must find the second part of the book of breathing. We already know it's in the summer court, but despite our many searches, we haven't been able to find out exactly where it is in the summer court. So we have to go there, locate it and steal it. And that's where we need someone. We're going to need all the help we can get to find that part of the book. And it's because of all this that we were in such a hurry. We hastily decided yesterday to stop searching and get on with it. It was a bad coincidence with Feyre's wedding."

Luxiana frowned. Part of her wanted to believe him, and to believe the glint of supplication that shone in his eyes. He seemed to really want her to forgive them. But another part of Luxiana, her logical, thoughtful part, which was putting all the events together and analyzing them, was screaming at her that something was wrong. That there was something the Lord wasn't telling her. 

Even so, she had to admit that his story made sense and could be true. After all, it could really be. She wanted to believe them. She liked them. Besides, it would make sense, that's why they needed a woman, to seduce the lord of the summer court and make him tell her where he'd locked the book. She could do that. "I can do that," she affirmed, nodding seriously. Everything that had happened at the wedding had been terrible and she was still a little upset, but Rhysand was right, time was running out. Now she understood why he'd done it in such a hurry, so she blamed them a lot less. But the doubt lingered in the blonde's mind with a bitter taste in the back of her mouth. What if they were lying? But why would they lie to her? She had nothing to offer them that they could possibly want. And in any case, she'd know in due course whether what they were saying was true or not. "But why didn't you talk to Feyre about it in that case?"

Rhys smiled wryly, she was clever but he'd planned everything. "Because this mission must remain secret, we can't compromise it... there were a lot of people at the wedding and a lot of people we don't trust. That's why we didn't say anything. But when we will be in possession of the second part of the book, we'll talk to her about it."

"And why didn't you let me say goodbye?" She insisted. She intended to get to the bottom of the whole affair. 

Azriel huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why the hell was she so relentless? "As Rhys said, we were on edge. We acted without thinking and seeing all those people, it surprised us. We just wanted to get away as quickly as possible."

Luxiana took a deep breath, then lowered her eyes. She finally had answers to her questions, or at least she could settle for that for now. But it didn't help her solve her problem. She needed to contact Feyre or see her to reassure her. She knew her best friend was worried sick about her. She thought Rhysand was cruel and was probably torturing her. She just wanted to reassure her. Living in anguish would hurt Feyre and she didn't want that.

Rhysand noticed the gleam of concern and disappointment in Luxiana’s eyes. "Is it that important for you to see Feyre?" 

Luxiana simply nodded, her mind elsewhere, already imagining hundreds of plans per second to contact Feyre.

"Then we'll take you to see her. Whenever you want."

Luxiana raised a wide-eyed look of surprise at Rhysand before both her pupils began to glow brightly. "For real?"

"For real?" repeated Azriel just as surprised as Luxiana. He had clenched his teeth and his voice was wheezy. Luxiana was also his soul mate and he had something to say about it too, but Rhysand didn't seem to care. He didn't want his soul mate to get too close to Lucien again. He was going to have to have a talk with Rhysand. He had to learn to share all things concerning his soul mate, including decisions.

The lord glanced at Azriel before returning his gaze to his mate and nodding, more than happy to see that dazzling smile on her face again. 

Luxiana let out an exclamation of delight as she passed Rhysand and leapt to her feet. She didn't really believe in Rhysand's kindness, but wanted to find out if he had something on his mind or if he just wanted to please her. And either way, she intended to benefit from this moment to see Feyre. "Now then! Let's go now! I'm going in the shower!"

Cassian, who had crossed his hands behind his skull, watched the scene with tenderness. He would love to see this kind of scene every morning. Seeing his mate bickering and talking with his brothers. His heart was doing strange things in his chest, but it didn't seem wrong. 

Just as she was about to pass Azriel, he caught her by the arm, immobilizing her with a single blow. She gave him a confused look, but Azriel pointed at her. "We'll go on one condition."

Luxiana inclined her head to let Azriel know she was listening, and to encourage him to continue. 

"You don't touch Lucien, if he touches you you push him away and you don't get closer than three steps to him." he said in a growling voice.

"Four," Cassian accented, nodding in agreement with Azriel. 

"Four steps," Azriel then modified. "Is that clear?"

Rhysand huffed, casting dark, reproving glances at his two brothers. They mustn't let her think she was their soul mate, she'd get scared and intimidated, but Azriel's jealousy was stronger than that. Rhysand hoped Luxiana had no idea.  

The blonde frowned so much her forehead hurt. "What's your problem with Lucien? He's really..."

Cassian jerked to his feet with a growl, "If you're going to speak out about oh how wonderful you think Lucien is, I'm out of here, it'll be without me." He started for the door, but Azriel stopped him by raising a hand.

He caught Luxiana's chin in his grip, turning her head toward him. "It's none of your business what's wrong between us and Lucien. We're allowing you to see Feyre, but we've set a condition in exchange, so we expect you to respect it. Is that clear?" Azriel gritted his teeth. He didn't like talking to his soulmate like that, but he was so jealous, so angry, that he couldn't contain his dry tone too much.

Rhysand squinted at Azriel. He was seeing a whole new side to his brother thanks to Luxiana, and he'd had no idea he was so dominant and authoritarian in his relationships before now. He knew that the three of them were having a hard time dealing with all the amplified emotions they were feeling, but Rhysand, though deadly jealous, would never have forbidden his soulmate to approach anyone. But he said nothing; he knew it was better for everyone if she stayed away from Lucien. And despite that, a bad part of him was reassured to see that Azriel was like that. A bad part of him was reassured that he'd have that role in the relationship and that he'd make sure their soul mate didn't get too close to any other man. But he'd keep an eye on him. He wouldn't let him stop their soul mate from living.

Luxiana smiled as she tilted her head, glaring at the Illyrian who held her attentively. She was determined to find out what was wrong between them and Lucien. She didn't like taking orders, but part of her appreciated Azriel's authoritarian behavior. This time, she intended to stay away from Lucien until she'd got to the bottom of the whole thing and got to know the three Illyrians a little better. After all, as much as she liked the redhead, she didn't really care whether she got close to him or not. He was only her friend. And the important thing was Feyre. She shrugged. "If you like."

Azriel released her slowly, and Luxiana wasted no time going to the bathroom. He watched her walk away with a mixture of emotion in his chest. She'd shrugged her shoulders as if she didn't care about Lucien, and his whole body lightened at the realization, but it wasn't the answer Azriel would have wanted. He would have liked her to tell him that Lucien was nobody to her. But at least she wouldn't go near him. Azriel was so afraid that Luxiana would realize that Lucien was better than him, better than them. 

"Luxiana," Rhysand called to her as Luxiana went to close the bathroom door. She turned to him with a questioning look. "We'll wait for you in the hall" 

Cassian and Azriel glanced at him half-surprised, half-furious, but Rhysand paid them no mind. He had no reason to keep an eye on her now that she'd not run off to see Feyre like they were going to see her now. And he was giving her some space. He didn't want her to be sick of them already. "There are clothes in the closet," he added feverish to see her in his colors, "please, help yourself."

Luxiana nodded and closed the bathroom door. The three Illyrians reluctantly left the room. The three of them were really going to have to have a talk, especially as they didn't want to behave in the same way with their soul sister.

[accidentcache]

it’s more of a random ass hc, but whatever, i wanna share my shit with you. my one (1) keigo thought is that he overworks himself around the time of the holidays (+ his birthday) cause like almost every other big name pro has a family and keigo’s all like, “nah, you gotta go home to your family, man! i can cover your patrol with no problem!!” since he doesn’t do anything special for the holidays. he wouldn’t want another kid to have to deal with a shitty holiday season all cause their parent wasn’t there

and then gf y/n saves the day and makes crime stop for the holiday season so keigo can rest and have a good holiday for once in his life. trust me, im actually hori

hi so i could've made this a little angsty but rue said she would kill me and publicly humiliate me if i did. so. sweetness of course <3

"hey," your voice startles keigo out of the paperwork he was nose-deep in. his curls hang over his eyes and his eyes are slightly bloodshot. strained and very obviously tired, like he's been trying to keep himself busy with paperwork he should not be doing. you set down the paper cup in your hand next to him on his desk, motioning towards it. "brought you your favorite."

keigo just stares at you. he's not sure what to say. he's not sure if he should say anything. it's the first christmas the two of you have spent together, and he's here at the office, working. he already felt bad about not being with you tonight-- but you had told him you were going to your mother's for the holiday. you had already assured him that it was fine that the two of you didn't spend it together. the two of you were opening gifts as a couple in the morning, that's what you two agreed on.

"baby--"

you don't let him finish. "drink your coffee, hawks."

the office is empty, aside from the two of you. everyone else is home with their families and children, after keigo had offered to stay and finish paperwork for them. he had nothing better to do, he had all night and was going to spend tomorrow with you anyways. he could afford the eyestrain for the night.

the fact that you respected him enough not to use his real name in public sent a small shiver down his spine. "it's just us here, angel."

he watches as you look around, your eyes scanning empty cubicles before leaning your hip into the side of the desk. a sigh leaves your mouth and you lean down to press a tender kiss to his temple. you repeat your earlier statement, "drink your coffee, keigo."

a grin spreads onto his lips and he reaches for the cup. he can feel the warmth through the paper, he catches a whiff before sipping and sighs when the taste of hazelnut and caramel hit his taste buds. he always thanks the heavens that you remembered his usual coffee order so quickly and easily.

"i thought you were with your mom," he says after a moment, setting the cup back down a clearing a spot on his desk. you take it as an invitation to jump up and plant yourself on the corner, like you always do when you come and visit him during the work day.

"i was," you respond. your feet dangle and swing a little, your hand reaches out to brush that one unruly curl of his that never likes to stay in it's spot. "too much whiskey in her eggnog. passed out around 9:30."

keigo snorts. he loves your mother. "so you come to hang out with me?"

"of course," you reply in a slight incredulous tone. "where else would i go?"

keigo takes a good look at you. he's always found you attractive, even more so when dressed up, even in sweats and a ratty old t-shirt of his. you look sweet-- just a basic white sweater and dark jeans, your winter boots knotted twice around the ankles because they're a size too big for you. the bottoms are wet, which must mean it's either snowing, or raining outside. he doesn't need to look towards the window to find out, it doesn't matter to him.

"thank you," he says, after a moment of silence. "for keeping me company, babe."

you lean down to catch his lips lovingly, pulling away only the slightest bit. your nose knocks against his, the taste of his coffee on your lips when you run your tongue along them. "i love you," your murmur. "don't thank me for company i give you willingly."

keigo feels a smile spread onto his lips and he hums appreciatively. "i love you too," he murmurs in response, leaning in for another kiss.

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Fuegoleon ponders about... perhaps, needing to be more spontaneous. If he is good enough as he is for you, or if he should change something; try to be more. But he is lucky to have someone like you in his life who he gets to hold and kiss

Pairing: Fuegoleon x gn!reader Genre: hurt-comfort Fanfic type: Oneshot Length: ~0.9k Contains: Fuegoleon is too much in his head, kisses and reassurances, open ending I suppose?

Cursive letters neatly fit into their own space. Straight lines around them. Numbers. Plans in a calendar. 

Fuegoleon wasn’t a stranger to planning his days, his weeks, his life around some kind of a scheme. In fact, he felt that it made things easier, to have some kind of a framework for things he should do and ought to remember and in what order. Quite frankly it was the only way he could imagine governing his life, which wasn’t how some people went about, but this worked for him. 

And sure enough, dates such as Valentine’s Day were no exception. 

The date was circled. Plans were made. Flowers were bought. 

Everything was supposedly in order. 

Supposedly because no one could ever really know if something would happen, and a detour within those plans was necessary. 

But something… there was something about it, this time around, that made him wonder. About the kind of… rigidity of it, he supposed. Because while there was a manner of security in knowing what was going to happen, and where one was headed, there was a certain… unwavering-ness of it all that he wasn’t sure he liked. 

Which was for the very simple reason of: this wasn’t about a job. 

Or a duty. Something he had to do because it was required of him. 

Instead, this was something he wanted to do, out of his own volition. And while he wanted it to be perfect, he didn’t want to place it into a similar box as one of his duties as a captain. But it posed a different kind of a problem. Because he was used to being reliable, to being able to make plans and be someone you could depend on. And thus, just throwing the plans out of the window so spontaneously and leaving the two of you stranded for the day you were supposed to go on a date felt… irresponsible. 

Perhaps that was the right word for it. 

Perhaps not. He just wasn’t sure.

The door opened.

You peaked through the doorway.

“Weren’t you supposed to pick me up at 5?” You asked with curiosity. It wasn’t like him to be late, unless it was for a good reason. In which case it was worth checking if he’d be caught up in duties for the rest of the evening. 

His head turned to the clock on the wall. 

20 past 5.

“Oh,” he uttered, realizing that he had been caught up in his own thoughts. “Apologies, I was just-”

What was he just? Thinking? Worrying? Wondering if he should try to be something? He didn’t really have a good reply. 

So he chose the one he deemed most apt. 

“Thinking.”

You let out a hum while looking at him. “Thinking about what?” You deemed it as a fair question. 

If it was about work and he couldn’t tell you, that’d be fair. But it didn’t mean that you couldn’t ask. 

And judging from the pause he took, he was thinking about how to formulate his answer. Because if he couldn’t answer, saying so was simple. 

Only when the answer was more difficult, he took a longer time. 

“I thought about… if I should be more… spontaneous.”

A pause.

A longer pause.

You looked at him with raised brows, slightly puzzled, but more so wondering what… what on earth had resulted into this thought. 

“If you should be… more spontaneous?” You repeated as the expression lingered. “Why?”

His head swayed from side to side, as if he was pondering the very same question.

“Because…. I don’t wish to appear as if I’d be too… predictable. Perhaps the correct word I’m looking for is ‘boring’,” he replied, but felt as if he was more so speaking to himself. “Or that I’d be performing a duty, rather than a wish.”

You kept looking at him with raised brows, but lowered your chin ever so slightly, almost as if to ask. But he seemed serious with his wonderings. That he was concerned about being too ‘predictable’, or ‘boring’. 

A faint huff of air left you as you shook your head and the corners of your lips tugged up into a smile. 

“Honey,” you began while making your way to him. “You’re not boring,” you gave his forehead a small kiss. “You are… dependable,” another kiss. “Thoughtful,” a third kiss. “And you are… you,” one more, lingering kiss. “You don’t need to worry about being too predictable, or needing to be overly predictable,” you half shrugged, half stated. “Having a plan and a schedule is who you are, and it is you that I fell in love with. But if you have moments where you wish to do something more… spontaneously, that’s alright too.” 

You pulled away, leaned back, but only enough to gaze into his eyes.

And he gazed right back to you.

Those deep, gorgeous lavender eyes that had a tendency to appear royal purple in a certain lighting, looked at you as if some divine revelation. As if he had been offered redemption of some kind. Been absolved of some sin he hadn’t even committed. 

“Thank you, my love,” he stated while pulling you closer, against him. 

He got up from his chair, but placed his other hand onto your cheek to guide you into a kiss. 

His lips embraced yours for a moment. And another. Parted only to gasp for air. For a moment that lasted… seconds? Minutes? Tens of minutes? You weren’t sure.

And neither did you care.

This was perfect as it was.

The dinner plans, could wait.

[wordsofelie]

Chapter 1

🌅Don’t you dare runaway (A Phoenix and Ashes Sequel)

Miya Osamu x f!reader

Summary: Miya Osamu thinks some things will never change— Atsumu will always be annoying; his Ma’s food will always be the best and you will always be his favourite sunrise.

Content Warnings: Timeskip Setting, Manga Spoilers, ex!Suna, Swearing

Words count: 3.1k

chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 - chapter 7 - chapter 8

Miya Osamu wouldn’t consider himself bad-looking. In fact, back in high school, he was quite popular. He remembers being on the volleyball team, where girls would show up to every game just to catch a glimpse of him, even more than ‘Tsumu—though his brother would argue that to the grave. But to be honest, Osamu didn’t really care about the attention. It was nice, sure, but it could also be annoying at times.

Now, as an adult running his own business, things have changed. The fangirls have been replaced by regular customers—people from the neighbourhood, office workers, students. Some of the girls still look at him, maybe even flirt a little, but it's different. They’re not giggling or blushing like teenagers. They smile, exchange pleasantries, and Osamu catches the occasional lingering glance, but no one is making a scene.

It’s almost a relief—being popular in school was one thing, but running a restaurant requires a different kind of behaviour. He can’t really ignore girls or play hard to get anymore. He has to smile and be polite all the time. Still, he is good at keeping people at arm's length and has a whole strategy built to keep his female customers without giving them false hope. So when a girl has a crush on him (and he can sense from afar) he adopts his three-steps rule: smiling but not too widely, looking at them in the eyes but not too intensely and when he hands them what they ordered, carefully avoiding any fingers brushing or any physical touch. With that, Osamu hopes that people will come back not because of how he looks but because they will like what he makes. And that’s just fine with him.

And above anything else, if he didn’t have time to date in high school because of the club, now that he is working, he has even less time to give to a significant other. So, he concluded that it’s better to keep people away.

(Well, except you.)

So yes, Miya Osamu is used to the attention. However, as he takes a glimpse at the two obasan grocery shopping on the other side of the road, whispering and grinning at him, he remembers why he hated fangirls back in high school.

“Do we really have to do this in the middle of the street?”

You wave at them with a polite smile and turn your attention back to him.

“Yes, one more, please!” you beg, holding your camera up.

Today is particularly windy and you decide to tie your hair up in a ponytail to keep strands from flying across your face (and Osamu knows you always tie them up when you want to be focused on something.) The sun is up in the sky, and the breeze is chill, summer is over.

The man sighs heavily, dragging out your name in exasperation.

“Osamu.” Your tone shifts, firmer now, the one you use when you're getting serious. Osamu likes to pretend you’re scary when you get like this, but really, you’re not. “Can you tell me who studied communication and social media management here?”

“You,” he mutters, crossing his arms.

“And who is in charge of your Instagram and Facebook pages?”

“You,” he repeats, already knowing where this is going.

“Right. So, unless you want someone else to ruin the carefully crafted image of your business I built, you should probably let me do my job.”

“Yer not even employed here,” he points out, raising an eyebrow.

You match his look, raising yours higher.

“Fine, fine,” he says, throwing his hands up in surrender. “But just one more photo. We’re supposed to open in five minutes.”

You grin in victory and start snapping photos of him. “Miya Osamu, you’re awesome. If you showed your face more you’ll get so much followers.”

Osamu feels a slight warmth creeping into his cheeks, he lowers his cap to hide his face. It’s getting hot, maybe summer isn’t really over?

“But can we at least do that inside?”

He knows you don’t really care whether it makes him uncomfortable or not because you just want to give the best image of Onigiri Miya possible and what’s better than the (good-looking) owner standing in front of his shop, half sat on a table, arms crossed? Nothing, you claim.

“Turn your face so I can see more of your left profile.” You instruct, ignoring his question.

Osamu is about to ask you to stop when Atsumu appears dressed in his MSBY Jackals sweatsuit, frowning.

“Oi, shop's still closed? I’ve got practice, need to eat first,” he complains, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Oh hi, Atsumu!” you lower your camera, “can you wait a few more minutes, I’m taking pictures of your brother.”

“Huh? But how am I supposed to be the best setter in the world if I have an empty stomach?”

Osamu sighs, “All right, all right. I’m openin’ up now. Just wait a sec.”

Atsumu watches as his brother opens the front door. “Wow, shocker. Ya actually listened to me for once.”

Osamu shoots him a flat look, one that makes you chuckle.

You both follow the younger twin inside.

The restaurant is small, but you always tell Osamu it’s warm. The walls are white, so the light reflects all over the place, the counter is made of wood, it’s so clean, sometimes you’re afraid to eat on it. There’s still some work to do and some decorations to add, but Osamu likes this place.

He sees your eyes waver all around the room with a little bit of pride. You both come here every day, but still, Osamu only realises how far he has come once you’ve passed the door and the look on your face lights up like a kid.

Atsumu’s eyes flick over to you as he pulls a chair. “What were ya doin’ outside?”

“I wanted to take some pictures of Osamu for his social media to celebrate the first anniversary of the shop. You know, to get more people to come.”

“Maybe ya should take me as yer model, I’ve always attracted more girls than that moron of ‘Samu.” He puffs his chest proudly.

Atsumu startles when the other twin brutally puts down a packed box with four onigiri inside in front of him. A nice way to tell him to shut up.

He blinks in confusion, staring at the box. “Oi, these are new?”

“Yeah, spicy cucumber and tarako, tell me what ya think.”

“Am I yer crash test or what?” Atsumu’s eyes widen, looking between you and his brother.

Osamu shrugs casually. “Ya always eat what I make, don’t ya? Thought ya wouldn’t mind.”

Atsumu’s indignation fades into a grin, though his pride won’t let him admit he’s secretly pleased to be part of his brother’s culinary experiments. He picks up an onigiri, inspecting it before taking a big bite. “Not bad. It's bitter and salty. But 'Samu, if I end up at the hospital, it’s yer fault. Don’t cry when ya’ll have to tell Ma’ her favourite son is dead.”

“Always so dramatic.” You whisper with a chuckle. The corner of Osamu’s mouth lifts a little at your words.

“Aren’t ya goin’ be late?”

“Nah,” Atsumu says mouth full of rice, “Practice starts a little bit later today, our manager’s lookin’ for someone to handle communication, so he had all those interviews and shit and coach wanted to be here.”

Both you and Osamu exchange a look.

“Atsumu.”

He turns to you, raising a brow.

“Atsumu,” you repeat, more slowly. “You realise I’ve been jobless for a month now, right? And that I’m looking for a job in communication? Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Yeah, I don’t think that would be good for ya. Ya’ll be surrounded by men. Bokkun, Omi-kun… even Shoyo-kun has joined us.”

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes. “And? Why is that a problem?”

Atsumu snorts, leaning back in his chair. “Just wonderin’ if ya can handle all those big guys, seein’ as ya’ve been single for—what—three years now?”

The brown-haired twin sees your features cringe at his words, but you quickly add, “But I’m with Osamu most of the time,” you point out, glancing over at his brother, “I’m used to boys.”

Osamu smirks at that.

Atsumu eyes the two of you before finishing his onigiri. “Right, just don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

“Do you think I should apply?” You ask Osamu. There’s something in your eyes like you’re searching for his approval but at the same time, his opinion wouldn’t matter anyway for you have already made your decision.

You have changed so much.

Osamu remembers the sixteen-year-old insecure girl he met in high school. Back then, you were quiet, always keeping yourself distant. He hadn’t even had a real conversation with you until the sports festival in his second year, and even then, it had been short, perhaps a little bit awkward. People would forget your name; forget you were in the same grade as them. It never seemed to bother you though. You appeared cold in front of people, but deep down, Osamu always knew you were kind.

The years he spent at your side confirmed that.

Maybe it was the fact that you used to date his former teammate and friend, Suna Rintarou, that pulled you into his world, but even after that relationship ended, you stayed in Osamu’s orbit. In fact, he can hardly remember a time when you weren’t around. You spend so much time at his restaurant, you have dinner together every night, you’re there on the weekends and every January 1st, for who knows how many New Year’s now, you are the first person he sees. You’re a constant in his life, maybe what he could qualify as a best friend (not that he needs to title your relationship, it’s too special to be defined with words).

But somehow, everyone still thinks you’re an introvert, that you don’t like to talk much. That statement never fails to make him smile. Because he knows better. He knows that you love telling him about your day and you love to talk on the phone until the a.m.—when you’re sleepy you tend to ramble. When you start a new activity, you always need to explain in detail what you did and where and how and what you liked or disliked about it. Osamu has no certainties about this world, except for one thing; you might be reserved with others, but never with him.

“Sure, go for it, just know ya’ll have to see ‘Tsumu every day.”

“So what? Are you afraid I’ll spend all my time with your brother instead of you?”

“Me? Yer the one who’s gonna miss me.” He leans on the counter to whisper that last part into your ear. From up close he can see the beauty marks on your face, he rests his chin on his palm and smiles (a side smile, always).

Your lips turn upwards, “You wish.” He can feel your breath against his cheek.

“Oi! Stop whisperin’, I know yer talkin’ about me,” Atsumu interjects, both Osamu and you straighten a little bit. The setter says your name, “D’ya wanna come with me so I can introduce ya to the manager? Maybe ya can give yer CV?”

You turn to Atsumu, “Of course, I’m coming. See you Osamu.”

“I'll close the shop earlier so I can pick ya up Champion.”

"You're the best." You wink at him and join the blond twin outside.

Osamu doesn’t have the time for a relationship because his business comes first.

Or perhaps it comes second.

Right after your friendship.

Osamu waits for you in the parking lot of Osaka’s gym. Your interview is supposed to end in a few minutes but if it were to end sooner, he decided to show up earlier, just in case. It’s become a habit—being there for you before you even ask. It started years ago, and somehow, it never stopped. He catches sight of you emerging from the gym, but your expression worries him. He’s seen almost every side of you by now. Disgust when you eat menma in a ramens, guilt when he picks you up at 3. am. downtown ‘cause you drunk a little bit too much—you always apologise a thousand times, as if he minds driving you home— sadness when your heart had been broken by your first love. And that face, he knows it too; you're overthinking.

Osamu raises a brow as you approach. "So... how’d it go?"

You hesitate, lips pressing together in thought. Your silence makes him uneasy. Osamu notices his hands are starting to sweat just slightly so he decides to hide them in his pockets. Over the years, Osamu has learned that if you're nervous, he is too.

"It went great, actually. Better than I expected." You look down at your shoes for a moment before adding, "But that doesn’t mean anything, right? I don't know if they really liked me... I should have done better..."

Osamu clicks his tongue and opens the passenger door. "Yer always so damn humble. It’s annoyin’, ya know that?"

You chuckle softly and roll your eyes. When you sit next to him in the car and he starts driving, you’re fast to realise he is not going in the direction of your apartment.

"Where are we going?"

"I want to thank ya for takin’ care of the shop’s social and ya know, just supportin’ me and stuff, openin’ the restaurant wasn't easy but ya were there. So yeah…”

“You don’t have to, you know I’m happy to do it.” Your eyes are so soft, Osamu wants to lean in them.

“I know.” He simply answers, he always answers the same thing.

 “How about Chinese food?"

You sink into your seat and nod. Osamu can see that you’re happy with his choice from the wrinkles that form around your nose as you smile. A warm feeling spreads into his chest, it’s comfortable like he had just drunk a sweet cup of tea in winter.

“So, how was the interview?” He then asks (and he knows the conversation will last the whole ride because remember, you never shut up with him).

So, you tell him about how it started with the manager and coach, both professional and somewhat intimidating at first, but then the mood shifted when the captain, Meian, walked in. You describe how calm and composed he was. He made a couple of jokes, and you tried your best not to burst into laughter ("I need to stay professional, you know.") Then, of course, Bokuto barreled in behind him like a human whirlwind.

"Bokuto-san was... a lot," you laugh. "He barely let the manager finish a sentence. He was so excited, he even asked me to make a post about him. But you know it’s not like I’m managing the social media yet, so he was very disappointed, and I felt bad. Maybe I should have made a post anyway, to show my skills? But then what if they didn't like it? What if they think I'm incompetent?"

"I'm sure ya did great, smartass" he uses a soft voice, in an attempt to reassure you. "What happened after?"

"And then," you continue, your voice lowering a little as if you're embarrassed, "Sakusa-san showed up. He didn’t say much—actually, he didn’t say anything at first. He just dragged Bokuto-san out of the room. I think he was annoyed."

There it is—that slight blush on your cheeks when you mention Sakusa. It's subtle, but Osamu has known you long enough to notice. For some reason, it bothers him more than it should.

"He’s... interesting," you add, trying to brush past it, but Osamu’s mind lingers the way your voice softened when you mentioned him.

"Is he? I don’t know him that much.” A sudden urge to change the subject invades him.

“Atsumu warned me not to fall for any of his teammates. Said it would be ‘too much drama for the team.”

Osamu glances at you briefly, curious. "And what d’ya think?"

You shrug casually and shake your hands. "I’m not really looking for a relationship right now."

Those words hit him harder than he expected. There’s a surge of relief in his chest, so sudden and sharp that he can’t ignore it. But he does his best to keep his face neutral, hoping you don’t read his mind.

You’re probably afraid to get hurt again, he understands that. When your relationship of three years ended up with Suna, you were devastated. Osamu remembers you crying for months. He was so afraid you’d starved yourself that he couldn’t sleep at night and decided to take care of you as much as he could. He wished he’d done more though.

He keeps his eyes focused on the road like he doesn't dare look at you at this moment.

He thinks the conversation is over when you break the silence again. "What about you? You never talk about your love life. What happened with your last girlfriend? What was her name again?"

Osamu stiffens. He hadn’t thought about her in months, and now that he does, there’s no real emotion attached to it. She was nice, sure. But nice wasn’t enough.

He needs someone funny and kind and bright.

He wants to laugh and to cook and to sit in silence with the one he loves.

"Ah, her," Osamu says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "She didn’t like that I spent so much time workin'."

You wait for him to say more, and he can feel your eyes on him, asking him to keep going. He sighs, feeling a weight settle in his stomach. And with you, he is about to say, but that would make you feel guilty, and he doesn’t want that.

You frown, confused. "She was very pretty though. Why didn’t you ever introduce me to her? Were you... ashamed of me or something?"

Ashamed? Of you? The idea is so ridiculous that it almost makes him laugh, but he can’t shake the look on your face, the way your brows knit together, and you purse your lips slightly.

"I’m not ashamed of you, idiot," Osamu blurts out, the words tumbling from his mouth before he can think them through. “I guess, I just didn’t really have the time.”

Your smile softens, and though you don’t say anything more, he can see a glint of joy in your eyes.

“Why are ya smilin’ for?”

“You must really love me.”

Osamu feels his heart skip a beat; he almost misses to stop at the red light.

“Why-why would ya say that?”

“You only insult people you love, like your brother.”

He opens his mouth a little, but nothing comes out.

“I’m glad we’re friends.” You tell him and your voice sounds like a lullaby.

Fuck, Osamu thinks. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken another coffee an hour ago because he can hear his temples beating loudly and he needs to do something with his hands—they’re shaking, they’re shaking. You’re going out of the car once he’s parked; he looks at you. Your smile is still playing at the edge of your lips.

Friends, of course, you’re friends.

That’s great.

Perfect.

Osamu wouldn’t change anything about it.

author notes: i'm sooo happy to start this story, this chapter was essentially a way of setting the scene. compared to the prequel it will be mostly osamu's pov.

i'm gonna try my best to make it possible to read it as a stand-alone but i still think reading the prequel can help to understand the bond between osamu and y/n, anyway i hope you've enjoyed that chapter :)

taglist: @wolffmaiden, @obibiwan, @teyvatsunsets