#feeling some type of way in this chilis tonight

[paarksunghoon]

FIXED COMFORT | SUNGHOON

SUMMARY: typically, sunghoon’s the one who takes care of you when you’ve had one too many. but once in a blue moon, he lets his guard down and allows you to care for him the way he does for you.

or, the one where sunghoon’s drunk at a bar and misses his girlfriend a little too much.

NOTES: idk I just feel like someone should let him sleep for six months straight!!!

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.4K (4444 exactly—she’s a shortie).

WARNINGS: fluff on fluff on fluff.

***

“Hey, do you think you could come get Sunghoon from the bar? He’s been asking for you for the past hour.”  

Jay’s phone call pulls you out from a deep slumber on a Saturday night that falls on a day with no plans other than pure relaxation. Sunghoon had been preoccupied with work and classes this past week and wanted to unwind by drinking at his favorite bar with his closest friends and all you wanted to do was sleep the weekend away. 

Since the two of you started dating six months ago after being friends for a little over two years, you both agree on the notion that you’ve found a good balance between time spent together and apart respectively. Nothing fundamentally changed with the exception of kissing and touching one another in the way a couple would. He still respects your independence and you respect his time away from you as well. 

Sunghoon learned quickly that you’re the type of person who values your alone time more than anything else. When he first started developing feelings for you, grappling with your absence wasn’t easy. He initially thought you weren’t interested in getting to know him the way he was with you because you weren’t afraid to decline invitations and telling people ‘no.’ Slowly, over the course of many months of pining and late night conversations, did Sunghoon learn that you’re typically your best self after a moment of isolation. 

Your boyfriend is somewhere in between an introvert and extrovert. He tends to be shy when he meets people he isn’t familiar with while his loud, rambunctious attitude is typically reserved for those who know him best. He likes to keep to himself for the most part, giving some of his personality away when he feels his walls start to crumble naturally. You love that he has a good head on his shoulders and that he’s able to tell you about his feelings while maintaining an air of confidence. He doesn’t inherently need anybody; he likes your company and will do anything to keep it.

Moments like this are when your heart feels softer for Sunghoon than when the two of you were just friends.

“I know you wanted to spend the weekend alone but Hoon’s been saying your name all night,” Jay says. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“No, it’s fine.” You’re sure Jay can hear your brittle voice. “Are you guys at the bar near your place?”

“That’s the one. Thanks again and I’m really sorry for waking you up.”

“Don’t sweat it. Cook me something next week if you still feel bad.” 

“I can do that. Chili oil noodles with shrimp sound good?”

“It’s almost like you know me.” He laughs at your sarcasm. 

“Drive safe.” 

When Jay hangs up, you allow yourself a few minutes to adjust and wake up, stretching your body from the warm comfort of your blankets. You change out of Sunghoon’s shirt to put on pajama pants and another one of his stolen shirts, opting not to take a jacket since you figure you won’t be out for very long. 

You thank your past self for filling up your gas tank before tonight after having put it off for a few days. Knowing Sunghoon, he would still scold you for allowing yourself to run nearly empty before filling it up even if he was inebriated. Somehow, knowing this about him brings a smile to your face.

Sunghoon’s the kind of guy who likes to have some control over certain things. He likes order and structure, often waking up at the same hour every weekday to build a routine his body can remember. He’s been like that since you first met him but you think it’s part of his charm. Even from two years ago, when you met him through Jake Sim, Sunghoon has maintained a level of confidence and control that he does now. On the heels of an impressive skating career before pivoting to focus on higher education, Sunghoon had his preferences and will stick by them. 

His discipline is the first thing you noticed when you met him for the first time. Jay, someone you were already familiar with, agreed to cook dinner with your friend group under the condition that everyone helped him shop and chip in for the meal. Sunghoon held Jake back from buying unnecessary things like boxed chocolate milk and candy because Jay had desserts back at his place. He held a checklist of items whereas the rest of your friends ran up and down the aisles without thinking much about what needed to be purchased.

Sunghoon’s near-meticulous behavior is juxtaposed to your chaotic and rambunctious nature. You often follow your gut instead of setting a solid plan because you’re not concerned with meeting deadlines, sans education. Whereas you tend to lean towards a go-with-the-flow attitude, Sunghoon is the opposite. But that’s something he loves about you.  

At a surface level distinction, it didn’t seem like the two of you would get along as well as you did. It surprised Jake when Sunghoon asked for your number so he could text you about seeing a comedy film with him as no one else in the group wanted to see it. Including you at an impromptu study session with him (Sunghoon was organized and neat while your pens were spread all over and your study methods, haphazard) felt like watching two people clash. 

Rather, you and Sunghoon complement one another. 

The idea of letting himself go with someone who wasn’t part of his friend collective was unheard of. Getting to know a girl who didn’t share similar lifestyles didn’t appeal to him before meeting you, and you’re inarguably the most chaotic person Sunghoon knows. But he finds that there’s order within your chaos—you know who you are and what you want, and you will not compromise yourself just to please other people. 

It’s what Sunghoon loves the most about you. There’s a boundary you never let anyone cross under the assumption that your own safety net feels compromised. He’s watched you lose friends for this same reason and has always admired the way you carry yourself like you know you deserve better than people who disrespect you. He’s witnessed the grace you maintain when people who call you a friend voice words of kindness but speak ill about you behind your back. If anything, Sunghoon feels pity for anyone who crosses you to the point of anger. To be envious of another’s confidence is one thing. To make that known is another. 

Sunghoon learns that you let your inhibitions go because holding control over yourself feels like a burden. It feels like setting a standard you will never be able to meet. He never thought of order in that way before getting to know you. Your approach to life sparked a new wave of emotions within him to the point where he was open and willing to let you farther into his life. 

His days were ruled by guidelines he had to maintain and proper etiquette that followed him even off the rink. The poise he carried from his career on the ice bled into his personal life too. Although, he doesn’t mind that it does. Sunghoon values any form of structure because it makes him feel like he has a purpose and that there’s something to be accomplished at the end of the day. 

Most times, Sunghoon’s feels like people judge him for his regimen and can’t fathom why he appreciates control so much. They tell him to let loose and enjoy his time away from his career. People always think he simply doesn’t know how to have fun because he’s set in his ways and won’t let other people coax him into doing something he’s not comfortable with. But not you. Sunghoon has never felt like you‘ve judged how he chooses to live his life. 

Before he knew it, a year had passed and he started to call you one of his best friends. The friendship was gradual. Sunghoon didn’t have many close female friends in the way he does with Heeseung, Jay, and Jake. You’re the first person since ending his career who hasn’t tried to pry into the why. In fact, Sunghoon enjoys that you didn’t bring it up. 

(You did, in the form of cooing over his younger self skating in competitions for the first time or roasting all of the outfits he had to wear. But somehow, all of your jabs made him feel happier than when people complimented his performance.)

Eventually, being around you felt too right. He loved it when you took naps on his bed and felt comfortable raiding your kitchen pantry without permission. Sunghoon could leave you in his apartment without him being in it and feel at ease. In fact, he started to look forward to coming home to you. All it took was seeing you wear his hoodie because you got too cold and forgot your jacket, to make him drop his bag by the front door and ask you to be his girlfriend. He hasn’t regretted anything with you since. 

The weather is cold outside since it’s approaching the middle of autumn. You let your car warm up and blast the heat all the way up while adjusting your defrosting settings before heading to the bar to pick up Sunghoon. You sift through your playlists and settle on soft indie melodies before you drive away from the curb. 

You’ve never seen Sunghoon get drunk to the point of needing extra help. Usually, you’re the one who goes a little too hard whenever Heeseung brings out the alcohol or if Jake offers an edible or two. Sunghoon likes to sit back and stay sober (or sober up by the end of the night) when he notices you having too much fun. He doesn’t mind, though. Sunghoon likes taking care of you because sometimes it gives him purpose. You’ve never understood that sentiment but to each their own. 

The only times you’ve seen him completely wasted are usually when you’re equally as gone, like on your first road trip as a couple. The five of you rented a lakehouse a few hours from Seoul and spent an entire weekend basking under the hot sun and chose to forget about university stress before finals would inevitably kick everyone’s ass. All five of you were cross-faded (but not without Jay and Sunghoon both prepping water bottles and snacks for when the munchies would hit prior to taking anything). You watched Sunghoon relax to the point where he was much quieter than he normally was and when you asked if he was doing alright, he looked you in the eye and told you he loved you for the first time. 

I always have, I think, he said as he brought your hand to his chest. You might not believe me because neither of us are sober but I swear I’ll tell you in the morning. 

Sunghoon gets affectionate when he’s drunk or high, often to the point of asking for reassurance. The rational side of his brain is temporarily disfigured. You don’t mind being there to tell him that he’s the love of your life and you’d never go anywhere when he gets like this. Although, you’re usually just as gone and gush all of your hidden emotionally-charged feelings, which pair well with Sunghoon’s need for validation sometimes. 

Your friends love your relationship. They don’t think it’s too much or too little, going so far as to take photos of the two of you when you aren’t looking. Some are funny like the pictures of you sleeping on his chest with drool pooling out of your mouth. Others are romantic and whimsical, like the pictures of Sunghoon looking at you like you’re the sunshine to his moonlight. They can’t get enough of you two. Your friends love knowing people they care about are deeply in love with one another and your relationship is somewhat of a reminder that true romance does exist. 

Thinking about this makes your heart swell as you park your car and tuck your keys inside your purse. The bouncer checks your ID and lets you inside the bar, and you already spot Jay off to the side. 

“Thanks for coming,” he says as he gives you a loose hug. “And sorry for waking you up.” 

You wave him off. “It’s fine. I’ve probably woken you up for worse.” 

“Yeah, like the time you and Jake wanted ramen at 3am and wouldn’t stop calling me because both of you got a little too high.” 

“Can you blame us?! You were like, two blocks away.” 

“Yeah, but did you need to eat with me?” 

“Duh. You’re like, the best person to eat a late night dinner with.” 

The two of you laugh as he leads you to the group. You see Sunghoon slumped over the table with his head in his arms and the rest of your friend group tries really hard not to seem too excited when they see you standing next to Jay. 

“Fucking finally.” Heeseung stands and gives you a quick side hug before Jake does the same. “Love you guys and all but he started to become unbearable when he kept showing us photos of you.”

Jake snorts. “Poor guy was almost about to cry.” That makes your heart soft. 

“He looks so cute,” you coo, tilting your head to savor this moment. It’s abnormal for you to be the sober one but you’re starting to understand why Sunghoon doesn’t mind taking care of you when you’re like this. 

Jay comes to stand next to you. “He’s not cute when he drank half his weight in alcohol and wouldn’t shut up about how pretty your hair is.” 

“What, do you don’t think my hair’s pretty?” The messy, unbrushed hair is enough to make the guys laugh. 

“Nah seriously, thanks for coming,” says Jake. “We felt bad calling you but he refuses to get out of his seat.” 

“It’s fine.” You wave him off and step closer to your boyfriend, who still hasn’t moved from his position. 

“Do your thing and we’ll be here if you need help bringing him to the car.” Heeseung smiles gratefully at you. 

Even the back of Sunghoon’s head is unfairly gorgeous. His hair always looks nice, although you credit that to his younger sister introducing him to a world of hair care products during his skating years. It feels soft to the touch as you stroke the back of his head until Sunghoon slowly comes to. You feel his body start to stir.

“Baby,” you say quietly, bending down until you’re next to him. “Wake up for me.” 

“Hm?” Sunghoon mumbles from his arms. He feels the sensation of your fingers carding through his hair and pulls himself from the table, wiping the spit from the corner of his mouth before realizing you’re standing next to him. “Y/N?”

“I’m right here.” 

He pulls his head up until he’s sitting upright in the booth, squinting up at you to adjust to the bar lights that disappeared when he closed his eyes. Your boyfriend looks so innocent like this. He looks at you with a wide, round gaze as if you’d appeared out of thin air and he’s trying his hardest to figure out how you’re standing in front of him. 

“Is it really you?” Sunghoon asks in a quiet voice. His tone makes your heart flutter and you reach your arms out until you’re cupping his jaw and rubbing the pads of your thumbs over his cheeks. Sunghoon melts into your touch and you feel his body start to relax. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, bug. Did you have fun tonight?”

He nods in your hands, “Mhm. Just tired now.”

“Jay said you were asking for me.” 

“I always ask for you.” Your cheeks heat up and you try to ignore the snickers from behind you. 

“Why don’t we go back to my place, yeah? You can sleep in my bed instead of this bar.” 

“Can we? I love the guys but I just missed you.”

“Simp,” Heeseung whispers before coughing into his fist. 

Sunghoon stands from the booth once you’ve taken a step back to give him the space to move. He’s surprisingly able to stand on his own and clutches onto his jacket as he makes his way to the door. 

“Sorry guys,” he mutters to the guys. 

“Yah, it’s fine,” Jay says as he waves Sunghoon off. 

“Get home safe,” Heeseung says as he opens the door for the two of you. Sunghoon waves behind him until you guide him to the car. 

“Can you put your jacket on for me?” You catch it in your hands after he nearly let them fall from his grasp. 

“Shit, sorry.” You watch Sunghoon put on one arm and then the other. He looks so childlike in this moment as he concentrates his hardest to put the jacket on without stumbling. 

It reminds you that he doesn’t show you this side of him often. Sunghoon, ever the poised individual who likes to know what’s ahead of him, has let his inhibitions down. Seeing his figure slowly push his body through the warm fabric has you biting back a smile. 

“Need help?”

Sunghoon looks down at his hands that are trying to zip his jacket up to no avail. He feels like his hands are too big and the zipper is too small. “Please.”

Your steady fingers cover Sunghoon’s and take over the tedious task. The metal is warm from his fingertips. You can feel him looking down at you and you temporarily fumble with the zipper, which makes him laugh.

“Silly,” he mutters. “Ah, fuck. I don’t know if I can open the door.”

You roll your eyes and open it for him. “You’re funny.” 

He slides into the seat as gracefully as he can without hitting his head on the roof. Sunghoon struggles, but manages to buckle himself in and grins up at you when he hears the click of the buckle. When you look down on him, the lamp post from above casts a soft glow on his face. He looks so youthful at this moment. Sunghoon has let go of his thoughts and couldn’t think about anything but the present moment even if he tried. 

He waits for you and mumbles about how cold it is when you turn the engine on. The warm air starts to uplift his spirits and he looks at you with us head pressed to the headrest.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“What?” you ask. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. Usually I’m the one taking care of you.”

“You don’t always have to be brave, you know.” 

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He reaches out to envelope your hand in his and squeezes it until he’s holding it loosely in the quiet of the evening.

“I love you.” 

Your heart blooms. “I love you right back.” He seems satisfied with your response and lets go of your hand so that you can drive back to your apartment. 

When you park on the curb, Sunghoon’s sober enough to unbuckle his seatbelt and wait for you to turn the engine off before opening his door carefully. He steps outside and leans back on the car door until you walk around the hood of the vehicle and grabs your hands to pull you into him. 

You feel his lips on your before you register what’s happening. He tastes faintly of pineapple soju and beer, and his mouth is warm. Despite his inebriated state, Sunghoon’s able to hold you between his hands as he moves to place them on your hips to balance your body after you’ve stumbled into him. 

The kiss itself is slow. In fact, it feels as though Sunghoon has slowed time around so that the two of you could enjoy the late night kiss uninterrupted. You can barely hear anything besides the ringing in your ears after being caught by surprise due to your boyfriend’s abrupt movements. Your mouths move in slow tandem and Sunghoon nearly pushes his tongue inside your mouth before pulling away to rest his forehead against your own.

“My baby,” he whispers against your lips before giving you another quick peck. 

“You are so cute.” You blurt out this confession like you’re still pining after him. “Let’s go inside, yeah?” 

The apartment is warm compared to the environment outside and Sunghoon slips off his shoes in favor of wearing his designated slippers. He doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time he does so, letting you pull him into the hallway until the two of you reach your bedroom. The hardwood floors feel better than the uneven pavement from outside.

He loves it here. It’s a sanctuary away from his apartment with the friends he will probably invite to his wedding. But something about your green comforter and hand-painted artwork adorning your walls makes Sunghoon feel like he would live by your side for the rest of his life. The scent of your room–warm peaches and vanilla–tugs at his heart strings. This is where he belongs. 

Likewise, you love seeing Sunghoon behave like this. It’s not commonplace for him to let people take care of him in the way you are now. He’s used to people looking out for his career and best interest but he struggles with allowing others to handle him with such care. After a decade of enduring harsh criticism and physical endurance, Sunghoon struggles to relax and allow others to take the reins. It’s partially why he loves taking care of you. Being able to provide that kind of love and support makes him feel wanted and needed, even if you tell him he’s more than enough a thousand times over. 

You leave him in your room to change his clothes taken from his designated drawer while you prepare skincare and the works. You hear him shuffle outside and fall onto the bed once, prompting you to hold your laughter in as you wash your hands and pull out hair clips for him to use. 

“I can’t lie,” Sunghoon says as you emerge from the bathroom to see him in a big t-shirt and pajama bottoms, “I’m really looking forward to you doing my skincare.” 

You snicker and pull your desk chair into the bathroom. “Now you know exactly how I feel every time I beg you to do mine when I’m drunk. Sit and close your eyes, please.” 

He follows your instructions and leans his back against the furniture. Sunghoon doesn’t fuss when you pin his hair back until it’s secure and allows you to make him feel pampered in a way he typically wouldn’t. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” 

Sunghoon hums. “Yeah, I did. The guys picked me up from my place and we had lunch at that seafood spot we’ve been meaning to try.” 

“Was it any good?”

“So good.” He licks his lips. “God, I’m still thinking about that shellfish soup. We ordered enough food to feed a village but it was so worth it. I wanna go with you.” 

“We can go wherever you want.” He smiles at your soft tone. 

“We also went to the beach and met some guys at the skate park by the highway. They were pretty nice and let us use their boards for a little. Heeseung got along with them the best, I think.”

“Heeseung makes friends with everybody.”

“He says he’s not social but that’s a lie.” Sunghoon twitches his nose when he feels a damp washcloth on his face. “We went to the bar afterwards and split it by round. I got the first and honestly, I don’t remember much after that.” 

“How are you feeling now, though?” you ask as you finish patting his skin dry. “Do you still feel dizzy?” Sunghoon opens his eyes and watches you apply a serum before dabbing it all over his face. 

“Not as much as before. I think I’m just tired.”

“And clingy, apparently.” 

Sunghoon smacks the back of your thighs. “Shut up. You love it.” You silence him by kissing his nose. 

While he brushes his teeth, you situate yourself underneath your plush covers and allow the weight of the blanket to fall on top of you. The sweet promise of a good night’s rest feels imminent, especially when you see your boyfriend emerge from the bathroom. He turns off the light and walks towards the empty side of the bed before he’s slipping himself beside you. 

Sunghoon’s an equal opportunist when it comes to sleeping positions. He loves it the most when your head is on his chest and when your arms are tangled in one another because he likes knowing that the two of you yearn for each other equally. But when he gets like this, Sunghoon takes initiative to maneuver himself until half of his chest and head are on top of you. He situates his arm around your waist and pulls himself closer to your body until a deep, satisfied sigh comes from the back of his throat. 

He hums in appreciation when your fingers begin to massage his scalp. Sunghoon’s hair is soft and silky and on most days, you’re the only person who gets to touch it. The slowness of your movements paired with the soft kiss you place on his temple makes his eyelids feel heavy. 

“Sorry you had to come pick me up,” Sunghoon mumbles against you. “I know we agreed to give each other some space this weekend.” 

“You should know by now that I’d do anything for you.” He feels you kiss the crown of his head. “Plus, we both know you’d do the same for me.” 

Sunghoon nods. “I would. You’re my girlfriend. Duh.” His sleepy nonsense makes you laugh. 

“You can go back to hanging out with the guys tomorrow if you want.” He shakes his head. 

“I want to get breakfast with you.” Sunghoon finds your free hand and presses a sleepy kiss to the back of it. 

“Whatever you want. We can get breakfast.” 

“If we wake up early enough.” 

You laugh again. “Yes, if we wake up early enough.” 

Sunghoon mumbles a few incoherent words that you can’t quite make out because of your own tiredness. When your own eyes start to droop, Sunghoon feels your fingers start to falter and looks up at you to see you’ve fallen fast asleep. 

He kisses the underside of your chin and falls asleep too.

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[trashbaget]

does anybody else get really emotional about the fact that you’re growing up

[flutteringfable]

HOYOVERSE‼️‼️ MAKE VENTI A MAIN CHARACTER IN AN EVENT AGAIN AND MY LIFE IS YOURS ‼️‼️‼️‼️

[mayahawkins]

the fear of telling a crush you like them is truly crippling

[cosmictapestry]

C16? Can we get some suffering in this Chili’s tonight?

C16. safeword use

yes OF COURSE we can get some suffering

okay so i'm only using "safeword" as like, the trope name, because these guys don't use a safeword since neither of them are into that type of play. all their communication is explicit and implicit and never obfuscating.

additionally this makes use of a concept explored in my fic series we, divinity wherein damage to the dreaming (mass extinctions, genocides, general loss of hope on a wide scale, etc) hurts dream directly. "whump," as the kids say, but i think of it as Pure Horror

prompt list here

They are moving together, sensuous and slow, meeting one another thrust for thrust, skin sliding soft and hot and slick, breath humid and shallow in each other's space. His lips are swollen, parted, allowing the swipe of her tongue across his teeth, drawing blissful noises from him, rumbling purrs in his chest.

He fucks up into her, pulling her hips forward to meet him with a hand gripping her arse, the other hand clenched white-knuckled in the sheets. She runs her own hands up through his hair, holds him at the perfect angle to devour him, to slide her cheek against his when she pitches forward with the push of his cock inside her.

She feels Lord Morpheus duck his head further, bury it in the crook of her neck. His tears cool on her cheek, drop hot on her collarbone, and he heaves, stops moving his hips in favor of gripping her arse in both hands, grinding her up and forward, impaling her and punctuating each movement with a ragged, broken gasp.

Lucienne throws her head back, arches in his lap, slams herself down on him, moves sharp and snapping, feels him still completely, just holding her, not moving at all. She assumes he's coming, assumes everything is going well, even as his arms come up to wrap around her back, hold her close, press his skin all shivering and hot to her own.

She is getting close, burning, trembling, clenching, and she hears him say something. Reluctantly she slows, quiets her breathing, but he doesn't say anything more. "My lord?"

He shakes violently now. "Can we—" and he heaves a breath, sudden, crackling, nails sharp in her hips.

Lucienne slows even more, concern prickling at the back of her neck. "Morpheus—"

"Please stop," he whispers, hurt, tearful.

In one swift movement Lucienne pulls off him, tries to push him back to see his face, but he holds her fast and hides in her neck, and he whimpers like he thinks she's trying to leave. Lucienne, alight with panic, pulls him impossibly closer, one hand buried in his hair and the other arm wrapped around his shoulders. "Alright," she murmurs, "alright, that's fine, alright."

He's shaking apart, choking, clinging to her, every unneeded breath a tight, shivering sob. "Sorry," he manages, like it's important.

"None of that," Lucienne says, too quickly, and he flinches. She is struck by all-too-familiar fear that she will make everything worse, terror because it is so easy to frighten him. “It’s alright, my lord, I promise.”

He makes a sound, disbelieving, wretched, and he quakes.

“Was it something I did?” Lucienne asks, breathless with guilt.

Another sound, this time a vehement negative, punctuated by the way he shakes his head against her neck.

“Alright,” Lucienne breathes, and she pets his hair, and she tries to calm down for his sake, tries not to torture herself with warning signs she paid no notice to. “Just breathe, love, I have you.”

He does as she asks, he breathes, but he does not relax. "You don't. Need to stay," he says.

She closes her eyes. "What's wrong, Morpheus?"

Lord Morpheus does not answer quickly. Speaking at all seems difficult right now, the words jumbled in the chaos of everything else. "Hurts," he whispers, and then flinches, and he tucks his head in closer.

"Alright," she says. She understands, suddenly, can feel the creeping cold of the realm moving through her being, the echoes of a wound he cannot contain within himself. It's been millennia since she's seen him bow this way under injury. Pain made all the more intolerable in the midst of pleasure. "I've got you, I'm right here."

"You don't have to be," he gasps. "This is not—" He cuts himself off, leases breath harsh against her skin between holding it, like he's trying not to scream, tense and trembling like he's trying to push all the broken-glass parts of himself back into their prison. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Lucienne gulps in a breath, feels it rattle with the tears building from her chest. "Please stop apologizing," she kisses the top of his head, turns her cheek into his hair, tries in vain to settle his shivering tension with soft pressure, safe sensation. "I want to be here. I always want to be here."

"I don't understand you," he spits, suddenly venomous, suddenly enraged even with his arms gentle around her waist. "This cannot be what you want. No one is so patient, no one can be. You're lying. You're waiting for something—"

"Stop that," she whispers to him. "Don't do that. I'm not leaving."

"Why?" he sobs, devastated again. "I have nothing for you. This is all you ask of me and I cannot even—"

"This is all I ask of you," she insists, and she kisses his hair again and again. "My king, my lord, my love."

He melts into her, finally, turns his face against her chest, all agony in the wake of some tragedy she will read about in her library tomorrow. He shivers and he cries, silently, while the pervasive wrongness and chill sinks into the foundation of the Dreaming and then becomes part of it, undetectable. He folds it up inside him, painstakingly, and he clings to her through it.

"How often does this happen, my lord?" Lucienne asks, when his breathless sobs subside enough that she thinks he'll be able to answer. "While we are intimate, I mean."

His voice is raw, apologetic and bitter when he finally manages to speak. "I cannot help it."

"No, I—" she squeezes her eyes shut again, runs her hand in broad circles over the smooth expanse of her back. "I know. I know. I just—my lord, you can always say no, we can always slow down or stop or—I'm never going to be angry with you. Please tell me you understand that."

He kisses along her collarbone, like he's trying to distract her, or just thinking through his response. "I do," he croaks. "I do. You must understand..." her lord's shoulders heave. "This is never. I am never. Free of this."

Lucienne does understand this. Of course she does. She understands it better than anyone else. She just hates it, hates it so much it's a physical presence in the pit of her stomach, this agony for him, this rage at the unfairness of the universe from its primordial beginnings. "If you cannot let me help you, at least don't let me make it worse."

"All you do is help," he responds, the quickest he's managed to speak all night. "You are kind, and you wait for me. You wait for me even when you are so lonely you want to scream just so someone will ask you what's wrong." Another heavy, breathless pause. "I don't know how you do it. Or why."

"It's not so hard," Lucienne murmurs into his hair. He so rarely speak about how he experiences her, how she appears to him in all his inconceivable perception. "And I love you. You are my dearest friend, and I love you."

He says nothing more, drained and reeling from a blow that he does not let touch her. Tomorrow she will figure out what the damage was, so she might find words to soothe him—or so she might say nothing at all, and she might just hold him through the night.

[mrdangam]

Grocery List

Remember to get raw meat—the kind that resembles the palms of your hands before they turn into angry fists; also, get tomatoes, you’ll know it’s good when it’s as red as your face like when you’re about to burst out of frustration; bite your own tongue, nobody believes a girl your age, instead, pick up some cow tongue for tonight’s curry; leave your heart to rest at home, people become greedy and grabby over things that aren’t theirs; grab milk, skip the skim, you’re not here to impress anyone; get this brand of chai masala, the one that impresses a man, but not enough to make him stay; skip the clothing store; find a salwar kameez cut from the same cloth as you and me, it’s cheaper that way; make sure you grab a newspaper on your way back; don’t stay out too late, it gets dangerous; have you heard about the mother who intentionally broke her daughter’s leg to save her? no amma, and please don’t do that to me, I promise I'll come home to you every night, just like I always do, I have nowhere else to go; only buy this particular brand of sugar, it’s sweet enough to satisfy a man’s desires yet respectful enough to safeguard a woman’s integrity; your split ends need attention; get bhringaraja oil, almond oil, and alma oil—specifically Dabur Vatika, not Parachute, that’s what you’ll need to grow hair long enough to keep you warm on cold nights, when there’s nobody to hold you; no need for jasmine perfumes; bottle your sadness into a scent, like the salty oceans out front; pick up some basmati rice; it’s just around the corner from the mishti store—what, you don’t know where it is? no, ma, there’s nothing there, the mishti store hasn’t been around for years; there was one, at least when I was younger; it must have been Pakistan that razed it to the ground; flames would seep from ruptured points and exit wounds on the streets as I made my way home from school; did you know they would sell rasgulla and rajbhog for a couple hundred taka? just like the amount your parents sold you off? Was it love then?; Mamoni, if it’s love that you’re looking for, you won’t find it for sale anywhere, true love only exists in poetry and books; can’t I buy books and read it out loud enough times until it becomes real enough for me to hold it in my hands?; mark off the food mold at the top of the list; it seems like it’s already shaped you into the woman you needed to become; don’t flash anger on me; anger is what a man exhibits when feeling insecure; are you any less than a man? no, amma, but sometimes I feel lesser than the lizards that crawl out inbetween the cracks of our walls at night; it’s not cruel; our ammas make us do this too, turning us into constant wars in our minds with no clear sight of the goal and out of reach; don’t look too deeply into the man with kajal under his eyes, dressed in a black kurti, even if he greets you with his hands down; he’s not the type to pen dramatic shayaris for you during arguments; he’s fluent only in Hindi, can’t even read Sanskrit, while you effortlessly weave poetry in Bengali, Hindi, Arabic, and hold onto the little Urdu you know, only because I raised you that way; he won’t opt for rickshaws or autos when you can easily walk the 8-minute distance to the grocery store; he’ll buy you the saris; he’ll buy you the jhumkas; he’ll even buy you the mendhi but won’t learn how to apply it for you; he won’t treat you to pani puri from the street vendor outside or let you coax the older bhai to add more chili powder to the mysterious liquid that’ll most definitely give you food poisoning; he won’t center your bindi for you; won’t allow you to adjust the collar of his kurti; doesn’t even consider offering you the last samosa; he’s a man raised among girls who were taught that their thoughts speak louder than words, and sometimes, not to speak at all; he won’t let you experience the freedom you have with me; don’t even entertain the idea of leaving me; oh, and one last thing, don’t forget to wear that dupatta; you always forget; sometimes, I think you do it deliberately to upset me

[rentfreeinmyskull]

i'm feeling some yearning in this chili's tonight. all the good shit is beneath the cut, you just have to get through the plot stuff first.

-----------

Little info on the cult. They don’t seem to have any connections on Coruscant, but I did hear from a contact that there have been mentions of new mind-control drugs on the market. Nothing as intense as you mentioned - closer to death sticks for their addictive tendencies, makes subjects more lenient to persuasion. Will send word if I find more.

Natila stared at the message for a minute, before sighing and setting the data-pad down, resetting the encryption as she did. The lack of information on this cult was getting increasingly frustrating. Tonight, she and Mai had been so close to apprehending a scientist who would have had a sliver of new information, but even he had slipped out of their grasp. Nat’s ears were still ringing from the grenade blast.

She spent the next ten minutes sending more messages to her contacts, calling in favors from less than savory types. Eilithos was going to have a field day telling her off once she got back to home-base.

The mind-control drugs were a potential lead - the cult seemed to prefer Force rituals over stimulants and chemicals, but perhaps they were expanding their market.

Either way, Mai should know.

Nat took one last look at her data-pad, then tucked it into her belt and made her way to the ship’s cockpit.

She found her companion asleep in the co-pilot’s chair. There were specks of shrapnel in her hair, leftovers from the encounter with the scientist. From beneath her robes, Natila could see a kolto pack that was peeling off at the edges.

In the pilot’s chair, FA-6 was busy fiddling with controls, their yellow eyes flickering as they calculated the ship’s flight trajectory.

‘Greetings, mistress,’ they said, voice flat. ‘I’ve set the course for Corellia. By my calculations, we should arrive in 4 hours.’

‘Thanks, FA,’ Nat peered over their shoulder at the navigation screen. Nal Hutta was getting further and further away. She would happily never step foot on that planet again.

She heard mumbling behind her and turned to find Mai waking up, the picture of grace as she slowly blinked and straightened in her seat.

‘Any word from your contacts?’ Mai asked, not wasting a moment.

Nat took the seat next to her. ‘Just whispers. A new mind-control drug on the market. Could be connected.’

Mai looked doubtful, but nodded anyways. ‘If we find nothing on Corellia, we should return to Coruscant. I’ve requested a bio-scan from the laboratories there. We just need to bring them a sample.’

‘I have a good feeling about Corellia,’ Nat said. She glanced up at the shrapnel in Mai’s hair and resisted the urge to brush it out. ‘I’ve called in some favors. Should make navigating the science district easier.’

‘I’m doubtful about the scientific angle,’ Mai admitted, leaning back in her chair. ‘We’ve never seen the cult use chemical methods to mind-control their victims, it’s always been through Sith rituals.’

Nat shrugged. ‘Can’t hurt.’

Mai flattened her lips in reply, staring out the window. ‘Perhaps we should visit Tython,’ she said quietly, eyes set on the stars outside. ‘I must have missed something in the Archives.’

Nat winced internally at the thought of setting foot in the Temple. She swallowed, glanced at her hands, then back at Mai.

‘Hey,’ she said, leaning over. ‘Your kolto pack.’

Mai looked down at her shoulder. The pack was sliding off, revealing bruised skin underneath. ‘Ah.’ She stood up, adjusting her robes. ‘Thanks, I should go change it.’

‘Do you want help?’

Mai looked down at Nat, surprise written plainly on her face. ‘I…Yes.’

—————————

‘Here. Sit,’ Nat gestured to the end of the medi-bed and made her way over to the crates stacked up in the corner.

Mai followed her instructions, the bed creaking beneath her.

Nat sifted through the crate, glancing back quickly to see her companion loosening her robes, wincing as she did.

‘Wait,’ Nat shot back. She grabbed a packet and in three strides, was back at Mai’s side. ‘Let me help you.’

Mai smiled gratefully and as Nat slowly pulled off her robes, she could see why. Her shoulders and back were mottled with bruises.

‘Stars, Mai,’ Nat gasped.

‘It looks worse than it feels,’ Mai replied, letting the top half of her robes fall over her waist. Her torso was bare. Nat purposefully didn’t look, but a buzzing began in her hands, aching and unbearable.

She cleared her throat and sat on the bed behind Mai. In silence, she began peeling off the kolto packets, revealing more bruises. These were further on their healing process, a dark green rather than an ugly purple.

Amongst the bruises, she spotted diamond tattoos. A string of them wound their way over Mai’s right hip and down her back, stopping by her spine. A straight line of black ran down one shoulder, ending in a diamond within a diamond.

Nat must have been stopped moving to stare at them, because Mai glanced back. With a grunt, she lifted her hand to point at the tattoos on her hip.

‘One for every year in the Order,’ she said, turning her head to face back ahead.

‘Why?’ Nat asked, busying herself with the fresh pack of kolto.

‘I consider it an accomplishment,’ Mai said, her voice slightly muffled.

A rush of resentment. Nat forced out a breath through her nose.

Mai looked back again, apologetic. ‘Not like that. It’s not…it’s not easy for me either sometimes.’

Nat expected her to look away again, but Mai’s eyes remained set on hers, dark and heavy.

‘You’ve wanted to leave?’

‘In some form,’ then she looked away. ‘I was tempted more when I was younger. Becoming a Jedi Knight, seeing all the forms of suffering in the galaxy, more than you could imagine. We are told all through our training that we are powerful, capable of changing the galaxy. But in the end, we’re just people, like everyone else. And we make mistakes.’

The last sentence hung in the air for a long second. Nat took in a deep breath, gazing at the curved planes of Mai’s back. She really was so beautiful.

‘Do you still want to leave?’ she whispered.

Mai shook her head and something like pain twisted through Nat’s gut. ‘For all the times I’ve failed, I’ve also helped people. Saved them, helped them save themselves. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized I’m where I’m supposed to be. And I have…’ she let out a warm chuckle. ‘A Padawan now.’

Nat started setting the new kolto packs into place, silent.

‘I never thought I would teach,’ Mai said.

‘Mm, I always pictured you with a Padawan.’

‘Did you?’

Nat nodded and Mai chuckled again, the sound filling the room.

‘In truth,’ Mai paused, rolling back her shoulders. ‘Nuri has taught me far more than I’ve taught her.’

Nat paused as she secured a kolto pack to Mai’s shoulder. ‘I’ve seen how much she looks up to you. She cares for you.’

Mai nodded slowly, her voice barely a whisper as she said: ‘I care for her as well. The Order does not allow us to have children, but she…’ She murmured something, then cleared her throat. ‘Thank you for helping me.’

‘Of course,’ Nat stood up and came round to face Mai. ‘I’ll get these last ones, then you should be fine.’

Mai did not need help removing the packs from her front, that much was clear, but still, she remained silent and watched as Nat carefully peeled them off her skin and set them aside on the bed.

Again, she avoided looking at Mai’s chest, but she could feel the heat permeating from her skin and in the corner of her eye, she could see the tattoos above her rib-cage, delicate, waiting to be touched.

As Nat leaned in to place a pack on Mai’s collarbone, the air in the room became charged. She heard Mai inhale, sharply.

Without realizing, she had placed a hand on Mai’s hip for leverage and she could feel the warmth like a brand against her palm. She stopped, her head just beneath Mai’s. She didn’t dare look up.

Instead, she stared straight ahead, at the curve of Mai’s neck, the subtle shadow of her shoulder as it dipped forward. There was an old scar by her collar-bone, consequences of a training session when they were younglings. Nat could still remember Mai’s cry as the other child had hit her. Even in tears from the pain, she hadn’t backed down.

Nat stayed frozen for what felt like forever, Mai’s breath warming the top of her head. Neither of them said anything and in the silence, Nat could feel the past years shrinking between them. Everything before this had been a dream. They were here now, flying through space together like they’d always talked about.

She was right there.

Nat leaned in and kissed Mai’s neck.

Her skin was impossibly soft, her stray curls of hair brushing against Nat’s cheeks.

As Mai’s fingers brushed against her shoulder, she wondered if this too was a dream.

Nat could have stayed like that forever, her hand on Mai’s waist, her face pressed against the crook of her neck, when a voice came over the intercom.

‘Master Jedi,’ came FA-6’s voice. ‘We’re receiving a call from Coruscant.’

The spell broke and Nat pulled back sharply, twisting so she was sitting beside Mai on the bed, her face flushed.

Beside her, Mai cleared her throat and rushed to put her robes on.

‘Coming, FA,’ she called out, standing up. Halfway to the door, she stopped and looked back at Nat.

There had only been a few moments in Nat’s life when she hadn’t known what Mai was thinking and this was one of them. The look in her companion’s eyes was unknowable, but as Mai left the room in a swirl of brown robes, Nat felt a familiar rush of yearning.

She spent the next ten minutes staring blankly at her hands, running the last few minutes over and over in her mind. Perhaps it would be locked away with all the rest of the ‘moments’, another stolen shred of time where all the rest of…everything didn’t matter.

Her data-pad beeped. A message from Coruscant.

Tython is under attack.

[cybertronian-cupid]

Can I get a hc of a flirty reader and black arachnia from tfa? Reader is a humanoid alien that’s super similar to humans in stature and size but has more catlike traits like fangs and unnaturally colored eyes like gold or smth, maybe even feline ears and a much longer lifespan so they’ve known arachnia for a looong time. They started out as awkward bumping into each other every now and then but they might have gotten a bit more attracted to each other (reader especially makes it clear they’re into the hot spider lady) and they just,, keep showing up places to flirt with her? Kinda like “hmu whenever you feel lonely, huh?” Teasing type. Could be nsfw if you can! I’m feeling gay in this Chili’s tonight. Thanks for writing you guys ❤️

This is our first alien reader and anon, they were a treat to write!💥 There are a few suggestive hcs, but nothing outright specific. Thanks for being patient!~Gregoria🏩

............................. ....................... ............................

Blackarachnia first stumbled over the reader when she was trying to find a way off of an abandoned planet where her “borrowed” ship broke down.

Yes, she actually stumbled over them. They managed to creep up close enough without her noticing, and she nearly squished them when she turned around and took a step.

"You know, I don't usually make others fall for me before a few dates."

Despite the annoyances and the alien’s insistent flirty comments - that she initially mistook as jokes at her expense - she agreed to take up their offer of company, since they mentioned they'd be getting "beamed" soon.

They parted ways at the docking area of the closest space station, with them handing her a small piece of paper with scribbles on it.

Their ear flicked when they tapped their temple twice, in the universal "Call me", and she couldn't tell what those two slow blinks were for.

She decided to not dwell on it, and crumpled the paper as soon as she was out of sight.

She met them again a few months after, on a nearby asteroid. She was working as a bouncer for some small cheap organics bar, and they came stumbling through the door, seemingly looking for someone. When they noticed her, a tipsy grin spread over their face and they offered to pay for her drink. Her shift was over anway, so she took them up on it.

The drinks were decent, and after the tipsy feline understood that the spider lady isn’t in the mood to be called cutesy nicknames, the night turned out to be pleasant. Especially with the bill she racked up.

The run-ins of the like seemed to become a staple over the decades; Black Arachnia would eventually find her way to a different planet, take up a shady job or steal enough money to lay low for a while, and the alien would somehow cross her path again. They’d drink, chat, flirt and eventually she started to consider the offers for a good time.

Granted, the amount of patience this pussy cat had was admirable, and the guts it took to figure out how to pleasure a hissing half-spider half-machine even more so once she said yes.

It was a night to remember, and Black Arachnia frequently rewatched those recordings. More than once she caught herself tracing the areas where the shallow scratches once were, and wondered how it would feel to have their fangs pierce the softer pieces of her protoform.

It was much much later that their paths crossed again, and it would be a lie if BA didn’t acknowledge the relief of seeing they were still alive. Some drinks, some teasings and, well... She made sure to leave her number for them to find in the morning.

Once she joined the Decepticons they lost contact - mostly due to her reluctance to put them in harm's way. They were the closest she considered a friend since the incident, and her conflicting feelings in regards to that and the intimacy wasn’t exactly helping.

Even so, she kept a close look on her comms, waiting for a cheeky message and itching for coordinates of any nearby planet the Decepticon ship passed.

[pastelevie]

getting very emotional about the end of The Final Battle in this chili's tonight

i've been watching some videos and man i especially love how it is on rotating stages. the barricade slowly turning so you can see gavroche on the ground and enjolras hanging upside down from it, lying on top of the flag. it's just. damn. especially with the way the music swells with the same melody as "the summers die one by one". it really hits me, y'know

...and as i was typing this i realized how perfect it is that it's those two. the leader who filled everyone with hope for a better future and a child who is the perfect example of who they were fighting for. a heartbreaking snapshot of the rebellion and its failure

and. y'know what i'm already rambling lemme do it some more. i love the way javert comes in silently surveying everything. like yes he's looking for valjean but. he isn't heartless. did he wish death on each and every traitor? yeah. but it's different seeing a battlefield of dead schoolboys. schoolboys who, during his brief time as a spy and their prisoner, he saw hopeful and youthful and lively and courageous. he's absolutely mourning these lives cut short, even if only on the inside because they were traitors and his morals say they deserved it

it feels like... a first moment of softening. and it makes him letting valjean go just the littlest bit more emotional than it already was. because here's valjean who let him go. and i think he'd already let him go anyway because of that. but then he's got one of those schoolboys, still alive. i think, if there was any hardness left to him before that moment, marius was what washed the rest away. like i said, i think he would've let valjean go anyway, and valjean is of course the source of his subsequent crisis, but i think in that moment he did consider marius in the equation

[mothusband]

tonight i made hot and sour soup for the first time and it ended up being some of the best i've ever had, so i'm gonna share the way i made it if anyone wants to save it and give it a shot! (i forgot to take a pic sadly but trust me it looks, smells, and tastes amazing)

-----

1 carton chicken broth + 1 carton veggie broth (cartons 32 oz each, you can also use just one type of broth if you want)

¼ cup rice vinegar

¼ cup soy sauce

1 teaspoon chili garlic sauce

1 teaspoon sesame oil

a small ginger root

mushrooms, i used baby bella

bok choy

half a block of firm tofu

meat of your choice, i used deer because that's what i always have on hand but you can just throw whatever you have or feel like in there

-----

peel and dice the ginger root and dice the bok choy, i used about 3 stalks with both stems and greens. if you're using whole mushrooms now's the time to chop those up too. (i used my own judgement for how much of these i added to the soup, it ended up being about 3 handfuls of each)

save ¼ cup broth for later. combine rest of broth, mushrooms, rice vinegar, ginger, and chili garlic sauce in a stock pot or dutch oven and stir. heat until soup reaches a simmer.

while soup is heating, mix together the broth you set aside and ¼ cup cornstarch or flour until completely smooth. once soup begins to simmer, add the slurry and stir continuously for 1 minute until broth has thickened.

cut your meat of choice into small strips and fry, then add to soup once fully cooked. cut the tofu into strips, then if you want a more chewy tofu, fry it until browned on the outside (if you like it mushy though no need to do this).

stir in tofu, bok choy, soy sauce, and sesame oil. cook for 5 more minutes, then you're done :) if you like the soup more sour you can add extra rice vinegar, or if you want it spicier just add more chili garlic.

-----

i also made my own chili garlic sauce beforehand because i had everything i needed at home! i can't find the recipe i referenced but i took my own liberties with it so here's what i used:

¾ cup olive oil

3 tablespoons minced garlic

2 tablespoons red pepper flakes

1 teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons smoked paprika

½ teaspoon fish sauce

2 jalapeño peppers, diced

1 roasted bell pepper, diced. i imagine you can also use it uncooked if you want, but i cut mine up then put it in the oven on 375⁰ for 30 mins, then steamed it in a bowl covered in foil until i could pull the skins off

put all the ingredients in a jar, shake until well mixed, then refrigerate.

[flutteringfable]

me when friendship

[heybaetae]

[killingfloored]

notes on divergences for my bruce wayne: 

this interpretation of bruce wayne is set twenty to thirty years into his career, post-knightfall, specifically. bruce is struggling with the aftermath of the earthquake in gotham as well as the limitations and advantages of his (dis)ability. damian wayne is currently his robin and he works alongside the justice league, when needed, though he’s slowly edging into retirement and batman beyond territory

instead of living up to his father’s legacy, i’ve decided to delve into a similar mythos depicted in joker (2019), the long halloween, and the telltale batman game. bruce’s father was corrupt, a brutal figurehead of wall street and the top 1%, and was gunned down in front of him by joe chill in the midst of a riot in gotham city. in an effort to move away from the legacy of his father, he renovated the decayed remains of wayne manor into a school and home for disadvantaged youth. he moved himself into an apartment on the outskirts of gotham city. 

he’s killed the joker, who is the same bastard as comic joker. i don’t care. tommy elliot is the only archnemesis i recognize on this blog.

despite his best efforts, he maintains a strained relationship with his children, having already named dick as his next of kin. he’s always held them at an arm’s lengths, and it’s one of the regrets he carries with him. 

and, despite changing his family’s company, his father’s infamy hangs over him like an albatross. there’s no amount of trying to unlearn the bullshit he’s been fed on a silver spoon since he was a child that can successfully and completely undo it. you cannot be a billionaire in 2019 and still be a superhero - it’s not possible. but bruce is Trying, albeit not exactly successfully.

[mysterynerd]

'you can call me whenever you want, even if you don’t have a reason to.‘ ‣   @farmorepersonal​

𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐌𝐀    𝐈𝐒    𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘    ,    𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘    𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐄    𝐎𝐅    𝐓𝐇𝐄    𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓     𝐎𝐅    𝐓𝐇𝐄    𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄   in    her    palms    ,    suddenly    .    the    light    of    it    burns    ,    contact    added    screen    reflected    in    the    glare    of    her    glasses    .    spring    nights    are    gently    cool    :    velma    stands    in    the    doorway    of    his    home    ,    skirt    a    teasing    wind    -    ruffle    against    her    thighs    ,    a    little    bit    grounding    .    a    little    bit    silly    .    ❛    oh    ,    i    —    ❜    but    perhaps    it    is    just    she    that    is    the    silly    thing    .    velma    pockets    her    cell    ,    tucks    it    into    the    band    of    her    skirt    ,    hidden    by    the    swallow    of    her    sweater    .    

even    if    you    don’t    have    a    reason    to    ,    he    says    .    it    almost    sounds    like    ,    i    want    you    to    call    .    velma    flushes    ,    the    bridge    of    her    nose    delicately    pink    .    ❛    that    —    that    sure    is    easier    than    showing    up    to    your    front    door    ,    right    ?    ha    ,    i    —    okay    .    sure    .    i’ll    call    .    ❜    knees    knock    together    ,    toes    in    -    pointed    .    velma    ,    for    a    moment    ,    had    forgotten    she    was    leaving    .     ❛    i’ll    call    you    .    ❜    decisive    ,    a    little    more    for    herself    ,    this    time    around    .    velma    inches    back    ,    nearly    trips    on    the    lip    of    the    doorway    .    ❛    have    a    good    night    ,    mitch    .    i’ll    see    you    bright    and    early    ?    tomorrow    ?    ❜    and    then    ,    just    a    little    cheeky    ,    ❛    i    know    you    still    have    my    favorite    tea    blend    ,    so    i’m    looking    forward    to    it    .    ❜

[teyvatdreams]

when they cry / show emotion in front of you

includes: childe, diluc, zhongli x gn!reader

childe

childe wasn’t exactly the type to hide his feelings

however, it’s different when it comes to fear or worry

especially when it comes to you

one night, you decided to wait outside for his arrival; he had been gone all day adventuring but promised to return before it got too late

but night had fallen, and of course you were starting to worry and craving to see him

of course, the universe had different plans. after some waiting, a group of hilichurls managed to find their way to you — you cursed under your breath for straying too far from the harbor’s entrance

you knew how to defend yourself, and you would, but it was still a nuisance

you defeated them easily, but failed to notice the pyro abyss mage that accompanied them until it was shooting fire towards you. it completely caught you off guard

you struggled to catch your footing for only a moment, but that was all it took to get a bit burnt

right as you go to fight back, you see the familiar sight of two hydro blades slashing at the mage, and it’s not long until he’s no longer a threat

and it’s not long until you feel childe’s arms around you

since you knew the weight of the situation, you weren’t worried, but thankful for childe’s swift appearance

you giggle in his arms until pulling away from his embrace and seeing his eyes brimmed with tears

“wait… why are you crying?”

you knew childe well enough to know that these tears were not coming from a place of sadness, it was coming from a place of anger or frustration — you couldn’t exact figure out which one.

“i’m not mad,” he says, wiping his eyes quickly. “not at you, atleast.”

you took a hold of his hand to calm him down as he explained the situation

he thought it was safe enough for him to stop and pick some flowers for you, except he had to go out of his way to find them. he felt as if you getting attacked was his fault — if he had stayed on track he would’ve arrived back sooner.

he doesn’t let the tears fall, but from the way he keeps wiping his eyes, you know he’s emotional

you have to spend a few minutes convincing him that it wasn’t his fault you got a bit hurt, and he finally calms down and cuts himself some slack

before returning back to the harbor, he picks up the flowers he managed to find and tucks one behind your ear.

“i know they aren’t your favorite, but i found a sweet flower. i decided to bring them back here because they’re just as sweet as you.” he says softly.

diluc

you were in the tavern with diluc as usual when you noticed he was acting a bit off

he seemed spaced out; whenever anyone tried it took them multiple attempts to get his attention

so when you got a chance to be alone with him you asked him if he was feeling okay

and of course, diluc being diluc said he was fine. but you weren’t dumb.

“let me close the tavern tonight,” you say softly. “go home, get some rest. you deserve it.”

diluc looks back at you and opens his mouth to protest but he immediately closes it. he closes his eyes and nods.

“…alright.”

you lead him to the door and watched as he walked away, feeling uneasy.

after awhile, the drunkards found their way out of the tavern and you cleaned up before heading home.

the house you shared with diluc was quiet, a soft light across the room being the only indication that diluc was here as well.

you assumed by how quiet and dark it was that he had decided to go to bed

it’s not until you hear him sniffling that you realize he hadn’t

you find him sitting on the end of the bed you shared with him, shoulders slumped, head hanging

“diluc?” you say softly.

he lifts his head and looks at you, not bothering to move the hair hiding his tear-stained face out of the way.

you make your way to him and move his hair away, tucking it behind his ears. you gently wiped the tears off his face and gave him a moment to collect himself.

“do you want to talk about it?”

he takes a deep breath. “there’s not much to talk about. i’m just… in my own head. it’s almost the anniversary of…”

you nod, understanding his feelings. it was, in fact, almost his birthday, but you knew how he felt about that day.

“it’s alright. you’re still healing. it’s okay to feel this way.” you assure him.

you get him into bed and curl up next to him, making sure he knows his feelings are valid and that he doesn’t need to hide them from you, or anyone.

and as you look at him one last time before falling asleep, you swear you see a small smile creep onto his face.

zhongli

you had spent a nice day with zhongli spending time together and walking around the harbor

after awhile, though, you both decided to go further out, making your way up to guili plains and wangshu inn

you both checked on xiao before deciding to make qingce village your final stop of the day.

it killed two birds with one stone — you got to spend time with zhongli and also collect the jueyun chilli’s you promised to get for xiangling

you both parted ways for a moment; zhongli offered to find a nice place to sit as you collected the chilli’s

however, something caught your eye as you did.

a blue flower — unmistakably a glaze lily.

you lean down to examine it. you weren’t a stranger to them despite them being much less common to come by.

the petals were closed, but you knew how to open them. at least, you knew how to try and open them.

you sang a tune to it. nothing crazy, just a song your mother had sang to you as a child that remained one of your favorites.

and to your surprise, the petals opened.

you stared at the flower. you didn’t expect it to open, but now it was. and it was beautiful.

you hear footsteps behind you and see zhongli staring at you, hand covering his mouth.

you silently look at him and then back at the flower to show him.

“i… found an area abundant with the chili’s you need.” he says. his voice trembles slightly.

“zhongli?” you stand up, concerned.

he must know that you’ve noticed. he clears his throat. “i apologize. i was just moved by your interest in the glaze lily’s, i suppose.”

“oh,” you say, standing up and making your way to him. his eyes were watery. “well… they are beautiful. of course i’m enamored by them…”

he smiles softly, sadly.

“there was someone who once loved these lilies more than anyone. i think i see them in you. it is truly a beautiful sight indeed.”

[diavolosthots]

I don't know if I'm too late if so ignore this. Mc trying to take care of Lucifer. Like bringing him food and drinks, trying to make sure stuff is done in the house, stopping the brothers from bothering him.,thanks for reading my request and remember if you don't want to do it or I'm to late delete it.

You weren't too late at that time and I'm in a lucifer mood tonight so this is being done!

Also who else would like to try spicy hellburned chili now that i made it up? Because I do.

Helpful Hands (LUCIFER X GN!READER)

People always underestimate how much he does for this family, or at least he thinks so. They see mean old Lucifer who only ever bullies and is way too strict. They see the guy who has a patch of gray hair but should be way too young to have it. They see the Avatar of Pride who can’t bear to be defeated for the life of him. Sometimes they see a stuck up asshole who thinks of nothing but himself and occasional torture because he’s viewed as Mr. Sadist. The last part might be mildly true, but only on bad days and only to those who really deserve it. He’s heard it all, from both friends and foes alike, and of course his family. Even Diavolo scolds him at times, which that’s when he’s truly about to snap it because if it weren’t for the Demon Lord he probably wouldn’t be on edge all the time, but more on that later. The point is, though, that most, if not all, of those claims are fault. 

People see the surface level. They see what they want to see and they don’t dare to dig deeper. Maybe they fear him, maybe they’re just too warped in the idea that he absolutely hates everyone that they also turn to hating him. A “I do you like you do me” type of deal, but if they would just take the time… if they would listen and really take a good look at him… maybe they’d realize he’s just suffering. Everytime he gets mad at Mammon or gives a stern, “not now,” that’s him being overwhelmed. Or if his agitation shines through, it’s not because he’s truly annoyed, but because he knows they can do better. He pushes his brothers, absolutely, but only because he knows their true potential. He holds all this weight on his shoulders, for everyone, and instead of giving a small thanks, they ruin his day. It’s hard being the unwanted parent of six, but if he wasn’t, Hell would burn. Or, well, more so than it usually does. Diavolo adds to his work on the daily, and maybe that wouldn’t be such a problem, if he weren’t also the one distracting him from such work and then getting onto him for not having it done. 

It’s hard being him. It’s hard to be the responsible one because you feel like you have to; because you feel like you owe it to them. He blames himself, heavily, for everything that has happened, even though it was their choice to join him. He lays there at night, more often than he likes to admit, and asks himself the big “what if” questions. “What if I didn’t go against them.” “what if I let loose.” “What if I’m being too strict.” Never, ever will you hear him say these things. Pride, ya know? But you don’t need to hear those things because you do know. You see it in his tired eyes and slumped posture once no one is looking. You see it in the way he eats and his coffee outweighs his nutrients. You can tell every time his anger rises too quickly, although he deems himself the rational one. You know Lucifer, even if he thinks you don’t, and you feel bad for him. You feel bad that you’re the only one who seems to see how truly tired he is. How much of a shoulder to lean on he actually needs, and although you’d never dare just go up and offer it, because once again his pride still wouldn’t let him admit that, you try to acknowledge his needs in little ways. 

Coffee was ready this morning, Lucifer noted, but he brushed it off because maybe it was just Beel’s late night or early morning snack; maybe he wanted some? “The pot is full…” and he took advantage of that. Whoever made the coffee, and someone must have because it was still hot and tasted fresh, he thanks them. You smiled to yourself when you saw him with a cup, heading back to his office, “morning, Lucifer. Enjoy your coffee.” He had looked at you, blinking a few times and probably wondering why you’re so cheery this early in the morning, “Good morning, (Y/N).” but that was it. Well, not really. Next thing he knew was that lunch was already done when he arrived in the kitchen to start it. “(Y/N)? What are you doing? It’s my turn.” but you only shrugged, wiping your hands before grabbing the plates and heading out to the dining room to place them, “yeah but I was already down here and didn’t have anything to do. Don’t mind me, just come sit and eat.” He didn’t say it, and he didn’t need to, but he was really appreciative and he even managed a small smile when you passed. 

Those were isolated incidences, though, or so he thought. But now, little by little, he realized more and more things that he had never noticed before. The rooms were clean, or at least the ones he was in, the fridge and pantry was always stocked, even with Beel around, and he rarely ever got interrupted. Of course, he still heard the occasional arguments between his brothers; Mammon stealing the remote right as Belphegor was about to put sleepy time music on… seriously, why can’t the guy do that on his D.D.D.? Or Satan screaming at Leviathan who accidently tripped over Satan’s books in his room while lending him his headphones. Shocker on that one, right? Or maybe it was a disagreement between you and Beelzebub about which spices should be used in the Spicy Hellburned Chili for this wednesday night’s dinner. But all of these were minor and nothing compared to what he usually deals with. At first he was super suspicious though and would constantly check on everyone, but by day three he thought that maybe, just maybe, he had gotten lucky and he finally does have some peace. Spoiler alert: he did. He got way more done than he ever did. 

That, however, does bother him. He doesn’t know who or why they would do it and as much as he enjoys it, he would also like to have a discussion with them. His birthday isn’t for another couple of months so he knows that that wouldn’t be the reason he’s being treated so nicely, so what else could it be? Mammon would only do this for money and even then he’s pretty upfront about it and begs for it Lucifer immediately after he had done the task, so he’s off the table. Satan and Belphegor would rather die than help him, Asmodeus is too obsessed with himself and Leviathan is holed up more than he shows any signs of life. So, the only other two people are you and Beelzebub, both of which are very nice people and debatably the only ones who truly care about him. The last part is a joke, but you two show it more than others. “Was it you that has been helping me?” But Beelzebub just looked confused, half a bag of chips down his throat as Lucifer asked and something told Lucifer that he wasn’t it. “No, but did you need help?” With a shake of his head and a sigh, Lucifer turned on his heel to go and find you, but not before doing something else. 

“Come to my room, (Y/N).” he had said and for a moment you thought your whole plan backfired and his brothers annoyed him again, or maybe you had forgotten something in it? Were you not careful enough in your attempts to make his life easier? You haven’t even gotten to the best part! “I’m here…” you practically sprinted down the hall while trying to find an excuse for anything he could potentially say, but when he opened the door to let you in, all of those left your mind, “what’s up?” He didn’t look… mean, per se, but he looked stern like always and it kind of freaked you out. Did you do something wrong? Was the coffee not strong enough? You used the wrong spices for the chili, didn’t you? “Do you see this?” Lucifer’s finger pointed out and you followed it, noting it was pointing at his desk, “uhm…. Yes? Am I not supposed to see it? Wasn’t it always here?” “Yes, it has always been there. However, something is different.” You turned to look at him and then back at his desk. Was it new? Did he paint it? Is there a trophy on there you should be aware of? “Lucifer I can’t see--”

When you turned back around, he was holding out two glasses of champagne and a smile was, for once in what felt like forever, gracing his lips. “Exactly. It’s empty. You can actually see it.” he hands you one of the glasses, his smile never faltering, “I had an unusual amount of time this week thanks to a few… coincidences that just so happen to align with my schedule and make my life easier. I know it was you. You made my coffee that morning, and were kind enough to leave the pot. You took up my lunch shift on purpose, not because you were down there. You also took my dinner shift this week, and cleaned the house. I’m assuming you’re also responsible for keeping my brothers in line which is a miracle within itself.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head before reaching out his other hand and tilting your chin up, “I don’t know how or why… and frankly, I don’t want to know. It would ruin the fun of it, but I do want to thank you for it and seeing as I have nothing else to do tonight, or tomorrow, you’ll be staying with me.” You blinked a few times. You could feel your heartbeat speed up and for a moment you wondered what you had actually done, but also, how bad could this go? You had one more thing to give him, anyway. “Works for me. I have one more thing to give you, anyway.” You clink your glass with his before taking a sip, watching him raise an eyebrow while your own eyebrows rose up and your lips turned into a smirk. “Undress for me, Lucifer.” 

You hope he will agree to a massage. Lord knows he needs his shoulders loosened up.